


There's Something To Be Said About Living (Dying)

by Oboeist3



Category: Ghost (music video), Ghost - Mystery Skulls (Music Video), Mystery Skulls (Band), Welcome to Hell - All Media Types, w2h
Genre: Deals with the De-I mean like a job offer, Gen, Multi, Mystery Skulls Shenanigans, Nonspecific Anxiety Disorder Afflicted Arthur Because Reasons, Not Character Profile Compliant, Suicide, demon!arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-26 15:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2656598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oboeist3/pseuds/Oboeist3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Benjamin Rogers killed himself on August 17th 2014, in a hotel room in Texarkana. He thought it would be the end of everything, but it turned out to be only the beginning. Because when you make a deal with the Devil, things rarely go as planned.</p><p>ABANDONED WORK</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something of A Backstory

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I'm back yet again. Combining two of my new favorite things because this is fanfiction and I can. Anyway, if you're from the Mystery Skulls side of things, please go watch the first link below. It's not necessarily required to understand the story, but it's hilarious and I guarantee you will love it. If you're from the W2H side of things, please watch the second link. That one you do have to watch to understand the story I'm afraid, because that's where the characters come from, but it's really good and kind of heartbreaking. Hope you all enjoy and DFTBA!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HnOHh5rtBIk  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YlEb3L1PIco

Arthur Benjamin Rogers killed himself on August 17th 2014, in a hotel room in Texarkana. In theory, there could be many reasons why this was, his clinical anxiety-depression combo, his amputee status, the realization that he was twenty-three and had done absolutely nothing of any importance with his life. All would have been acceptable, believable answers. Yet none of them were the real reason Arthur did himself in. Assuredly they all played a role, but his decision ultimately traced back to one thing. 

 

Lewis.

 

Lewis was Arthur's best friend for four years, three in college and one spent traveling the country in a goth revamped version of the Mystery Machine with a blue-haired girl named Vivi and a dog who was also a demon. (The tale of how this came to be was rather hilarious, but best saved for another time.) 

 

That year had been perhaps the greatest in Arthur's life, even for all the terrifying ghosts, demons and other creatures they regularly encountered, (not to mention the shifty, crime-oriented humans.) There was a happiness bound to that van, a sense of home Arthur hadn't felt anywhere else. He'd thought it could stay that way. 

 

Then, Lewis and Vivi started dating. It wasn't all that surprising really, they flirted fairly often, and the way Lewis looked at Vivi when he thought she wasn't looking was equally endearing and heartbreaking. The latter because Arthur had always hoped that look might be directed at him. He knew it was irrational, feeling this way. He'd had feelings for Lewis since he met him, but he wasn't so convoluted to think anything could amount of it. Even if Lewis wasn't straight as a rod, Arthur doubted he was the sort of man he would be interested in, all low self esteem and cowardly. Lewis liked people with personalities like flames, bright people that stood out from a crowd. And who better than Vivi, a girl who found joy where Arthur only found terror, who lived life with an enthusiasm he just found exhausting. Still, for all his rationales, his chest ached a little when he saw Lewis throwing an arm over Vivi's shoulder, link hands with her on missions, place kisses to her temple when she excitedly blathered on. 

 

It had been about two months into Lewis and Vivi's relationship when they arrived at the green-tinted cave in a thorny part of the countryside. It was - predictably - terrifying for Arthur, who kept a death grip on Lewis's shoulder as they ventured deeper and deeper. Eventually they came to a fork, and since Arthur had no intention of letting go of his shoulder, they split up, Vivi and Mystery down one path, Lewis and Arthur down another. 

 

Eventually they came to a cliff, overlooking a large, foggy cavern, filled with dangerously sharp stalagmites. Something about it made Arthur feel sick to his stomach. He stayed back as Lewis moved forward, looking out at the sea of stone.

 

"Phew!" he whistled. "Some fall that'd be, huh Art? Still, nothing much to see. Let's head back a-" But he was never able to complete that thought, because he was experiencing that fall firsthand. Because Arthur had fallen prey to the ghost haunting the cave, forcing his body to move even as his mind screamed no, as his other arm desperately tried to pull it back. 

 

Things were a bit of a blur after that, but Vivi later told him he'd stumbled towards her, left arm torn off and crying, saying 'I'm sorry.' over and over. Over the next month, he adjusted, getting himself fitted for Cybernetics to replace the arm, and let the guilt soak in his mind until it was a forgone conclusion. Yes, it was his fault, but what was there to be done about it? So he lived, reluctantly. 

 

Vivi was beyond amazing. Even though it was her boyfriend who died, who he killed, she stayed strong, got them back on their feet and out solving mysteries again. 

 

"Lewis would have wanted it that way." she'd said, with one of those soft smiles that didn't reach her eyes like they used to. 

 

Overall, things got better. They fell into a rhythm, the three of them, Arthur drove, Vivi kept an eye on the map, and Mystery, well slept mostly, but sometimes would dispel arguments over where to get food with a pointed glare. They didn't speak of how something felt missing, how empty it could feel on those long stretches of road without Lewis's timber voice singing along to the radio. They didn't talk a lot, these days. 

 

One day, while passing eerily close to the cave, the van broke down in front of an ramshackle purple mansion. It was off, but it was their only option, so they took it. Of course it was haunted, and Vivi was overjoyed, and he was scared. Same old story. But something about this place was more than just the usual scary. Half of him was convinced he was going to die here. 

 

That half was almost right. 

 

Because that house wasn't any old haunted house, it was Lewis's. But not the Lewis that drove the van and sang along to the radio, who went seemingly without fear into haunted places and lairs of all sorts. This was the Lewis that was pushed off a cliff by his best friend. This was a vengeance tinted version of him, set on only one goal. Killing Arthur.

 

As soon as he saw him, cold eyes staring at him with pure hatred, it was all he could do not to fall apart. So, he did the next best thing. He ran. He ran and he kept running until somehow he got them out, somehow got the van to start up and leave this place and those memories behind, go on with their lives. 

 

'At least I did one out of three.' he remarked on the evening of August 17th, finishing the knot on the neatly formed noose, securing it to the rafters. He simply couldn't take it anymore. That house had shattered Arthur's ability to keep the guilt at bay, to think of anything but the night in the cave, the slightly numb feeling of Lewis's back against his fingers, the look of his face as he fell, shocked and betrayed. 

 

No Hell could be worse than this. 

 

His note sat carefully on the bedside table, an apology to Vivi for everything except what he was about to do. 

 

  
_"This is how it's supposed to end."_ he'd written with finality, the words repeated over and over as he put his head through the noose, standing on top of a chair. He took a deep breath and kicked it away.

 

It actually wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, hanging. At first, the breathes were simply labored, like after a run. But by ten minutes, the world turned a spotty black-white, the pressure of the rope making each breath shallower and shallower. The black spots got bigger, and his awareness thinner, until the last of it disappeared with a soft, slow exhale. 


	2. Welcome to Hell

 

When Arthur woke up, he wasn't sure exactly what to expect. Certainly not pearly gates or angelic choirs, yet he didn't hear the crackling of fire or screams of agony and despair either. In fact, once he blinked open his eyes, all there was black. A total blackness, without comparison in the living world because it simply couldn't exist there. The only way he could comprehend it at all was the slight green glow from his neck, a groove in the exact location of the rope. 

 

He used this odd but admittedly helpful light source to look for any signs of variation, anything other than this menacing blackness. Suddenly, he noticed an orange figure leaning up against something. (A wall? Without contrast he had no clue.) 

 

The figure was tall and lanky, dressed in a neatly pressed purple suit, with bright orange and oddly triangular facial hair. 

 

"Welcome to Hell. Would you like a hand?" asked the figure, a Jersey twang in his voice as he held out a hand. 

 

Without really thinking, Arthur nodded, his right arm reaching up and being pulled by the figure into a sizeless yet simultaneously huge room. The walls were the same impossible white as the black had been, but with far more definition, actual walls and a ceiling and all. There was a desk towards one wall, lined with file cabinets, and a poster on another wall that read tranquility. The irony would've been amusing if he wasn't so confused. 

 

"This is my office. Have a seat." he said, and having no reason not to, Arthur complied. 

 

"Do you know why you're here, Mr. Rogers?" asked the man, now sitting across from him, fingers steepled like some sort of James Bond villain. 

 

It took Arthur a moment to realize he was supposed to respond to that. 

 

"Because I killed my friend?" he said, unsure, his shoulders hunched and head bowed. "Killed myself...." Vivi would have found him by now. He hoped she was ok, even though he knew she wouldn't be. 

 

"Yea well, I'd kill my friend too if they gave a dog priority seating." he said cooly, examining his fingernails and looking back at him. 

 

Arthur should have been mad at him for trivializing the whole thing like that, but for some reason, he just felt resigned to it. Something about this place....

 

"Where's all the hell-y stuff? You know fire and torture and whatnot." he dared to ask, earning only an exasperated sigh. 

 

"Why do they always ask that? It's like you people _want_ to suffer. Humans." he scoffed. "Hell is currently under reconstruction. The eternal burning agony is so 1690's. Crushing corporate monotony is the new fear of the masses, and we at Sinnergy, LLC and affiliates are only happy to oblige. But becoming the supernatural realm's biggest corporate entity is hard enough on it's own, and we're understaffed. That's why I'm going to make you an offer." he said, yellow rimmed eyes looking intently at Arthur's brown ones.

 

"What kind of offer?" he asked suspiciously. Arthur wasn't blind after all, even dressed as a sharp businessman, the Devil wasn't exactly subtle. 

 

"Like I said, we're understaffed. Demons aren't what they used to be. We need fresh blood, and it's not coming down fast enough." 

 

 "So you want me to kill people." he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but mostly failed. 

 

"Not exactly. You have to help people kill themselves." 

 

This wasn't much better in Arthur's mind. He may be in Hell, but he couldn't even hurt a bug, let alone a human. Well...not on his own. Out of habit he looked down at his left arm, only to find it gone. Of course. It wasn't like the cybernetic would come with him. 

 

The man noticed the action, and seemed to remember something. "Oh yea." he said, snapping his fingers, and suddenly the arm was back, his _real arm._ It was tinted green and a little bit tingly, but when he curled his fingers, the green ones followed suit.

 

"Came down a while back with a nasty soul clinging to it. Should work now that the rest of you's here." 

 

Arthur couldn't stop moving the appendage, unable to quite believe it, fingers curling and uncurling as he continued to speak. 

 

"Anyway, you'll be assigned to a human counterpart. It is your job to haunt, torment, pester, and be a general nuisance to this human until they uh...punch their own ticket. What do you say, we have a deal?" 

 

Hearing this snapped Arthur out of his reverie, and he stood up quickly, the chair scraping loudly across the floor. "No! W-Why would I ever agree to that?!"

 

"Ah." he said, clicking his tongue. "You're not a bad soul, are you? Morality, always so pesky to deal with." he said, suddenly opening one of the drawers behind him to an almost comical distance, eyes following the folders as they flew by. He eventually plucked one out and sent the entire thing back into it's cubby with a nod, whirring past Arthur with a loud whoosh noise and clunking closed. 

 

"Yep, definitely heaven bound. What a shame." he said, tossing the file behind him where it phased through the cabinet. "Although that guy you killed. He isn't in my records. What was he, some sort of half breed? Werewolf? Purgatory never sends their reports on time." he grumbled. 

 

Arthur shook his head. For some reason, he couldn't help but answer his questions. Perhaps it was a matter of clarity, the only rationality he'd experienced in death so far. "He was human. But..." 

 

"But what?" he said, leaning forward a little. 

 

"He's a ghost. A vengeful spirit." he admitted. 

 

A wide, chilling grin filled the man's face, teeth too wide and sharp to even be considered human, and for a moment, Arthur could swear his eyes flickered a fiery orange, sharp horns poking out of his hair, a barbed tail curling by his cheek. Gone in a blink. 

 

"Now that I can work with. Tell me Rogers, how would you like to see this friend of yours alive again?"

 

"More than anything." he blurted out before his logic could regret that word choice. But it was true. He'd do anything to fix his mistake, to bring Lewis back, make Vivi happy again. 

 

The grin seemed to grow even wider at that. "Well then, let's see if we can tweak that offer a little." he said, snapping his fingers and a written contract popping on his desk, a thin stack of white papers. A pen that came with it started scribbling as he spoke. "You get ninety nine people to kill themselves and I'll bring this..." 

 

"Lewis Jones." he provided. 

 

"Lewis back from the dead." he finished off, the pen capping and resting on the table. 

 

"Can you even do that?" asked Arthur, try in not to sound too hopeful, too desperate. 

 

"Ordinarily no." he said, leaning back in the chair, hands behind his neck. "The mortal realm is neutral soil. My jurisdiction would be shaky at best, blasphemous at worst. But all deals must be respected, even if they bend the rules a little. However," he said, leaning forward again. "Heaven is beyond my reach. If that friend of yours moves on before you finish, there's nothing I can do." he said solemnly, before bouncing back to his overly chipper attitude. "So, do we have a deal?" he said, the papers and pen sliding over to him. 

 

Arthur considered it. If he refused, all he would keep was his integrity, which wouldn't do him much good in Hell. If he accepted, he wouldn't be stuck down here, he'd be with the living. And though the job itself disgusted him, there was that one grain of hope. Lewis, alive and well in a way he could never have fixed before. Of course, he'd have to be quick. As soon as Lewis learned of his death, he'd have no reason to stay. But Vivi would be the only one who could tell him that, and she wouldn't be going back to that mansion for a least a couple of months. A person a day. Didn't exactly lead to a lot of leeway, but Arthur would find a way. He always had. 

 

"Deal."


	3. The Girl With The Glass Heart

Vivi Dinkley-Blake was a girl of strong fortitude. Her gung-ho bravery (or recklessness) and shining optimism had seen her through just about everything in her twenty years of existence, from playground bullies to god summoning cults. However, she wasn't invincible. Grief plagued her as much as anyone else, and Lewis's death was no exception. The events of the cave left her aching, cracked on so many levels, her eyes rimmed red from days of crying, her entire demeanor cooler. Yet she didn't allow herself to fall completely, as she wanted to, as maybe she deserved. Because as much as the whole thing hurt her, it must have hit Arthur even harder. 

 

He and Lewis had been best friends for years: college buddies, a plethora of inside jokes and unspoken knowledge traded between them with daily regularity, now gone. She had to be there for him, put his needs before her own want to crumble. 

 

She did a pretty good job of it too, focusing Arthur's busybee mind on cases rather than the past, immersing them in a near overwhelming workload. She let the supernatural take over the empty space where Lewis was, but it was never a perfect fit. Not on those long Midwestern roads devoid of music, the nonexistent laughter that spilled out whenever Mystery jumped up on someone. But despite it's flaws, the solution worked. It was almost perfect, in fact. 

 

Almost. 

 

The straw that broke the camel's back, as it were, was the mansion. A purple one that thumped with a catchy beat quite different from it's Victorian exterior. At first, she was overjoyed. Another haunted place, another mystery to be solved! 

 

If only they knew...

 

She and Mystery had gotten separated from Arthur, not an uncommon fate in such circumstances, only to meet up again when he was running away from a vengeful spirit. Same old, it had seemed, though nonetheless thrilling for it. Then he'd been backed up into a corner, and in an act of blind stupidity (or bravery), she jumped in front of Arthur. She paled when she saw the ghost clearly for the first time. 

 

It was Lewis. Lewis, their friend, her boyfriend, the missing hole in the silence, floating there in front of her. He was looking at her with such an aching sadness her own heart seemed about ready to break at the seams, but her focus remained on the yellow one thumping towards her, closer and closer, almost there...

 

Then Arthur had grabbed her and started sprinting towards the front door, taking her away from the ghost, away from Lewis. She reached out, desperately trying to get the heart in time, but it was too late. The beautiful glass fell like a stone and cracked in two, the yellow flooding out instantly, leaving only a pale blue husk. With it, the Lewis she knew had vanished, an expression of pure hatred spelled across skeleton features, purple hellfire tearing behind them, pushing them out into the thorny woods. Arthur had scrambled, pushed them into the van and started it up, flooring it as soon as he could, until the mansion was only a pale dot in the distance. 

 

She wanted to tell him to go back, that was Lewis in there, his best friend! But how could she? How could she ever justify asking that after what just happened? She couldn't, so she didn't. 

 

Later, she wished she had.

 

* * *

A few days later, they'd arrived in Texarkana, a tiny town jammed on the border of three states, and for the first time in years, their hotel rooms were separate. Arthur said he needed some space, his brown eyes seeming deeper than usual, not lit up with mirth as they usually were. She reluctantly agreed, though she insisted on being just across the hall, just in case. 

 

Of what, she didn't know. 

 

The morning of August 18th had felt like the beginning of a good day. She'd woken up, taken a shower, eaten the provided hotel breakfast, and formulated a plan to get Arthur back to that mansion. For all the danger, physically and emotionally, it was still a chance to see Lewis again, to explain what really happened. They couldn't pass that up. 

 

Determined and ready, she'd walked up to Arthur's door, knocking loudly. 

 

"Arthur, it's Vivi! Get up already!" she said, experience obvious in her tone. Arthur slept so deep he might as well be dead to the world. The silence that came from his end just made her sigh. She tried to open the door, but of course, it was locked. 

 

However, she caught sight of a cleaning lady coming around the corner and hurried over. 

 

"Excuse me, would you mind unlocking this door? My friend and I need to get going and he's still asleep." she said, her smile genuine and wide. The lady nodded and shuffled over, sticking in the master key card into the lock and opening the door, only to shriek at the sight before them. 

 

There was a body hanging from the rafters. Limp, all of limbs dangling without tension, head lolled forward, an wistful expression on his face. 

 

Arthur's face. The body was Arthur. 

 

The cleaning lady was still screaming, shock and horror evident on her face, but Vivi just felt numb. 

 

Arthur. Dead. It couldn't be true. 

 

She stepped forward without thinking, her feet stopping just in front of her friend, taller than her for once. He looked so peaceful, so happy. But it was a fake peace, fake as Lewis's arranged formality in his coffin, a bouquet placed strategically to hide the hole in his chest. 

 

She caught sight of a folded piece of paper on the nightstand, Arthur's distinctly messy cursive scrawl written across it. A note. She picked it up, her hands shaking as she saw the apologies strewn across the page. The same ones he was always saying inside his head, he'd confessed one night after a few shots. Sorry for being so weak, for letting himself be possessed, for killing Lewis and thinking he deserved to survive. But there was no apology for the one thing he was to blame for, the one thing he'd truly messed up at. 

 

  
_"This is how it's supposed to end."_ The last sentence read, and Vivi couldn't take it. She'd break, and there was no one left to help her. So, like Arthur before her, she did the next best thing. 

 

Vivi ran. 

 

She ran out of the room, out of the hotel, climbing into the van and speeding off. Mystery, sleeping in the back, suddenly jolted awake, but she didn't care. She just had to get away from it, away from everything that had happened. 

 

* * *

It wasn't until an hour later that she realized she was heading back towards the mansion, the thorny woods looming over her head. The irony of it might have amused her in sounder mind, but now it was a goal, something that had to be met. 

 

She'd already lost Lewis once. Now Arthur. She couldn't afford to lose him again. 

 

It took some searching, but she found the mansion, the beat of it softer, more subdued. Barely there at all. Mystery whined and nudged her legs as she walked towards the doors, and she spared a soft pat of his head. 

 

"It's going to be OK, buddy." she said, standing on her tiptoes to reach the knocker, her weak voice not making it very convincing. 

 

"Lewis?" she called out, hoping ghosts had good hearing. "It's Vivi. I know we left too soon but....I need you." she admitted, for perhaps the first time in her life. She had always been the strong one, but who was there left to be strong for? 

 

Slowly, the door creaked open, and her feet carried her forward. It was different now. The spooky atmosphere had fallen into one of darker connotations. The lights flickered with faint purple flames, but the paintings stayed still, and the little purple ghosts slunked along the floor instead of bouncing cheerily. And there, in the corner, was a figure, dressed in purple, looking at a cracked blue locket with an unreadable expression. Lewis, looking as alive as anyone else. 

 

"Why did you come back?" said a crackling voice, but Lewis's lips didn't move. He just sat there, unmoving, like a picture frozen in place. 

 

"I-I needed to see you again." she said, somehow more scared of this Lewis than the one that lunged at Arthur. 

 

"Why?" he asked simply. It should've been a question with an easy answer, but it wasn't. Not after everything. 

 

"I just do." 

 

Lewis suddenly moved, limbs staying perfectly straight as he floated over, his expression hidden in shadow. His hand reached out to gently brush her cheek, and for a flash, she saw white in the place of flesh, a black suit where a purple shirt and jeans once were. His real form. Still, his fingers felt warm.

 

"Something's happened." he said. It wasn't a question. "What's wrong Viv?" he asked, the crackliness seeming a little less with the affection of her nickname. 

 

It was too much for her, this facade Lewis with his pretend life while Arthur was dead and gone, his body abandoned in her haste. 

 

"I-It's Arthur." she sobbed, tears flowing from her eyes, dripping down her face and right through Lewis's hand on her cheek. "He....he...." 

 

"What did he do?" he said, and that rage was there, that same anger that spawned hellfire, that kept him here and not on some cloud in Heaven. 

 

At first, she couldn't speak, her breaths more wheezes than anything, her voice a torn mess. "K-killed himself." she spat out, and without even thinking, she buried her head in his chest, her right hand bunched into the fabric, the left still gripping that awful note. "He hung himself and he didn't even say goodbye!" she screamed, the words echoing unnaturally off the walls. 

 

**_Hung himself, hung himself. Goodbye, goodbye._ **

 

Vivi heard a sharp intake of breath, even though the chest under her did not move, and there was no heart beating there. Of course, it was still in Lewis's hand. 

 

"No. Arthur wouldn't." he said, unbelieving. She pulled back and shoved the note into his hands, a rare anger of her own in her voice. 

 

"Well he fucking did." 

 

She could not see Lewis's eyes following the lines across the page, but she saw the emotions in the shift of his weight and the way his fingers curled against his palms. 

 

"What did he mean, possessed?" he asked quietly, like he was scared of the answer. 

 

Vivi sniffled a little and wiped the snot on her sleeve. "There was an evil spirit in that cave. It took Arthur over and pushed you off the cliff. Mystery had to tear off that arm to keep Arthur alive. He tried to resist it, but he still thought it was all his fault." Up to the moment he'd died. 

 

Lewis frowned, the first expression she'd seen on his mask of his living self, and wrapped his arms around her tightly, the bear hugs, Arthur used to call them. "I'm so sorry Viv. I didn't know. I thought...he must have done it on purpose. That he hated me, or wanted you." 

 

"Me?" 

 

"Yea. I think he'd always been a little sweet on you, you know? Who wouldn't be?" he said, and despite it all, she smiled a little. Lewis always knew exactly what the say to make her feel better. But it soon fell away as she started to think. 

 

"What are we going to do now?" she asked softly, lifting her head up to look at him, his features back to that of a skeleton. 

 

"I don't know." he said, tucking a strand of blue hair behind her ear. "Maybe....you could stay here awhile? There's plenty of empty rooms, and the Dead Beats can bring food. Just until we're ready to go."

 

Vivi thought about it. The offer did sound appealing. A chance to cut herself away from what was happening outside, to recover from what Arthur's suicide had done to her, to reknow Lewis as he was now, it was everything she needed right now. 

 

"Ok." she breathed out. "But we're going to his funeral. We owe him as much." 

 

"I'll try." he said sincerely, the sadness apparent in his voice. She didn't like that, even if it was warranted. She stood up on her tiptoes to place a kiss to his new boney face. It was odd, but not so bad. 

 

"You know, I don't know about God and all that other stuff, but...do you think he's watching us now?" 

 

"I know he is." said Lewis, holding her a little closer. 

 

Well, he wasn't exactly wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: Chapter 4 is finished and will be posted as soon as there are five comments on Chapter 3. Feedback is the fuel of writers, and I'd really like to hear from you guys. :)


	4. Demon Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, readers! Just a few things before this next installment of TSTBSAL(D), (if you can think of a better acronym that'd be swell.) One, thank you guys so much for your nice words and encouragements! I never expected to get such a speedy and passionate response from my reading base, but I'm glad to be surprised. Second, since it was such a help last time, I'm putting another five comment tax on the next chapter, (though it's not finished yet, so it's probably going to be a little bit of a longer wait than this one.) Third, I hope you have a nice day and DFTBA!

 

The fact of the matter was that despite Arthur's initial disgust and horror of his post-mortem occupation, he was exceptional at it. Be it the choice of fate, or the Devil's influence, or simply some dark part of himself, Arthur convinced his charges to kill themselves with an almost legendary speed. He saw their weaknesses, the things they had thought quietly to themselves, and brought them back with a subtle brutality.

 

_They hate you._

 

_Why bother?_

 

_You were never going to matter anyway._

 

**Just jump.**

 

**Just a few pills away.**

 

**One cut and it'll all be over.**

 

Many of them were thoughts he himself had thought, at some point or another, and thus many of the souls looked at him as a kindred spirit rather than some sort of punishment, smiled at him while the life seeped out of their broken shells. 

 

The part of Arthur that would've been horrified by this had dimmed with time, useless in the halls of Hell and perhaps even more so up on the surface. As Mephistopheles had so artfully put it: "Morality, always so pesky to deal with." However, he did still hold onto the scrap of humanity that had instigated his deal. This was for Vivi and Lewis, to make them happy again as he never could have in life. In a cruel irony, it pushed him to keep going, keep adding tick marks to the ever increasing sea of souls, day after day, seeking no rest, no break. As soon as the target had done themselves in, a new folder was in his hands, eyes skimming past the irrelevant and searching for the weaknesses.

 

(Later, he wondered when he stopped thinking of them as people.)

 

* * *

 

Such devotion did not go unnoticed by Arthur's boss, who saw fit to grant him all the powers the demonary position allotted him. Sharp, triangular teeth, (after case five: a tortured teenage lover from Virginia), coal black eyes (case fourteen: a sickly boy in love with his best friend), bat like green wings and a curling tail to match (case thirty seven: a drummer and heavy drinker from Kentucky). By the early seventies, he added minor possession to his list of skills, bumping up his expected payoff per day from 1-2 to 3-4, jumping from host to host, ruining lives with a few simple words and actions. 

 

Thus it came to be that two months, three weeks and six days after Arthur began his duties as a demon of Hell, his ninety eighth soul was funneled into the partially reconstructed domain, sent to alphabetize the Hall of Crippling Phobias for all eternity. He stood in Mephistopheles' office, no longer put off by the impossible whiteness of it, waiting as he searched for his final file. 

 

"Well, I gotta hand it to you Rogers, you know your stuff. I haven't had such a large inflow since the Great Depression! Lots of stockbrokers and lawyers. A good chunk of them work in our financial division, headed by old Tom Walker." he said cheerily, and Arthur nodded in feigned interest. He had long since grown adept at blocking out the Meph-babble, as his fellow demon Sock had once put it. 

 

"Some of them have a real propensity for evil too. You know that one from Colorado? Got Sinnergy a nice plot of land in Poland the Leviathans have been holding onto since before your kind existed. Said it was too close to that Chernobyl place and environmentalists would come and wouldn't leave for decades. Lying to that powerful of a being, now that takes gumption." he said proudly. Arthur wasn't surprised. Lowiek, for that was their name, had been the first and hardest of Arthur's assignments, taking a week and a whole lot of prodding. Even now, he wasn't entirely sure he played much part in their decision to kill themselves.  

 

"You know, we need more demons with a work ethic like you in management. After you finish this one, you won't have anymore reason to keep this position, will you?" he asked, and Arthur realized he hadn't really thought about what would happen after. 

 

"I guess not." He replied as Mephistopheles finally found the file he was searching for.

 

"You'll have a lot more power as a head, major possession, physical tangibility. Might even be able to visit that guy you're trying so hard to save, or get recruited for a Roanoke." 

 

"That was you guys?" 

 

"Most disappearing towns are. Takes a certain amount of impurity before we can intervene though. Don't pop up too often now." he said with a wave of the hand. "So, what do you say? You get this one killed, I resurrect your friend, and you get a promotion. Honestly, I'm not seeing much of a downside for you." 

 

Arthur, however, had always been shrewd, and becoming a demon had only tempered that particular skill. It sounded too good to be true, and by all logic, it probably was. 

 

"I'll think about it. But I want to be there when you bring Lewis back." he said. He had to be sure there was no trickery in this, no copping his way out at the last moment. Then all of this will have been for nothing. 

 

"For you Rogers, I'd be happy to. Now, you better get going." he said, sliding the file across the table to him. "Unless you want that friend of yours to move on." he said, too wide teeth shining pristine, white, and pointy.

 

'So that was his plan.' thought Arthur grimly. He had probably given him the least suicidal person he had on record, in the hopes that Lewis would move on before he could finish. But Arthur wouldn't allow himself to fail, not after everything that happened. 

 

He grabbed the file and popped out of the office to the top of Pikes Peak, finding the cool temperature and lack of humans to distract him made it an excellent thinking spot. His eyes skimmed over the file, ignoring the name and picture and jumping directly down to the reason Meph had them on record. Guilt for not preventing a friend's suicide, as well as a boyfriend's death. Seemed easy enough, but he dare not be arrogant. Not with Lewis's fate in his hands.

 

His determination set in place, Arthur tucked the file in his void locker, (the demonary equivalent of Hammerspace), and teleported to his last job. 

 

Or so he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally didn't stick an OC cameo in there. Totally didn't. ;) 
> 
> Fun Fact: I personally HC Arthur and Vivi having very similar thought processes but due to their differing personalities, they interpret the endings differently. (Ex. They see a ghost and know it's a ghost because of this, this and this, but Vivi responds with enthusiasm while Arthur responds with terror.) However, it does help immensely when they're trying to think of a plan and don't have to talk as much as they otherwise would. So if you're seeing some thought overlap, that's intentional!


	5. The Worst Sort of Reunion

There's a bluebird resting on the windowsill. Young and curious, it tittered by the slightly open window, flapping to keep itself in place on the icy surface. Vivi was watching it, her book momentarily forgotten. She didn't see animals near the mansion very often. Whether it was the purple shade or the constant beat, or the ghost haunting it, wildlife from the thorny forest didn't tend to wander here. She missed that sometimes, that glimpse of life outside of here. Yet the thought of leaving filled her with dread. 

 

It had been months now since she'd arrived, broken, sobbing, her mental state a shattered arsenal of pain. The wounds of it were healing, but it had been so long that she had a hard time of it. Her usual glee and motivation had fled and had yet to truly return to her. She slept a lot. It made things easier, not having to face the world. A part of her hated herself for it, but even that was subdued.

 

She was so tired.

 

Lewis was something of a godsend. He made sure that she took care of herself, ate and did something other than read or watch old cartoons from the monstrous purple armchair in the south hall. He knew when to be there and when to leave her be, just as he used to on Arthur's bad days. 

 

But she didn't like thinking about Arthur. 

 

No matter how much the logical side reminded her that she couldn't have known, not really, the guilt settled heavily on her mind. She understand how Arthur felt about Lewis now, how much it ate at you. 

 

Selfishly, she wished she didn't. 

 

She watched as the bluebird grew bored of the once new place and flew off, thinking fanciful thoughts about what it must be like to fly. She should ask Lewis, even if hovering wasn't exactly the same. 

 

He was busy now, though she knew he'd come immediately if she asked, scolding one of the Dead Beats for phasing into the bathroom while she was taking a shower. After the initial shock she'd forgiven the little guy, but Lewis knew by nature they were forgetful, so old as to not remember who they were or what they were like in life, instead taking on a generic, but friendly attitude. Hence, he had to keep a constant eye on them, not unlike the little siblings that used to run around his feet, screaming and laughing. 

 

As if hearing her thoughts, (even though he couldn't), the ghost in question hovered in, making sure to make enough noise as to not startle her. He draped his arms over her shoulders and rested his head on top of her own, separating it slightly more from his body, the flames of his hair tickling her ear.

 

"Hey." he said, his voice less crackly than it was when she first came. He seemed to be getting a hang of this telepathy thing. "Whatcha' been up to?" he said, even if he knew. 

 

"Reading." she said, holding up a well worn copy of Edgar Allen Poe stories, still opened to the Fall of the House of Usher. Her mental lethargy had yet to take away her love of horror, which she was glad for. "There was a bird here earlier though. A pretty little bluebird." 

 

"Really? Bit late for bluebirds." he remarked, glancing out the window. She cracked a small smile. They were starting to come back to her, those little things. Slowly, but there. 

 

"You live in a house with a tempo and built in back up singers." she pointed out. "Out of season wildlife is pretty tame by comparison." 

 

"True." he admitted, nuzzling her hair a little. "But it's still objectively odd. The whole forest is. We should go out and see sometime, if you want." It wasn't the first time Lewis suggested she go outside, nor was it the first time she'd thought about it. But her usual repulsion to the outside had eased somewhat with the sight of the bird. Her curiosity had kick started itself, and she realized she actually _wanted_ to do it, to go out and learn a little more about this strange place she'd deigned to call home. 

 

But before she could say a word about it, Lewis stiffened, his grip tighter around her shoulders before going slack. 

 

"Something's here." he said, his voice crackling ominously as he straightened, looking towards the door to the foyer. "I'll go check it out. You stay here." he said, floating away with straight limbs and curled fists. On any other day, Vivi would have just stayed there, let Lewis deal with whatever it was while she slept. But today she felt more like herself than she had in a very long time, and she didn't want to waste that. So she followed, carefully, quietly. 

 

Unaware of what she would see.

 

* * *

When Arthur popped to the location of his last charge, he found he was floating in the foyer of a large, Gothic mansion. Wrought iron chandeliers glinted over his head, suits of armor lined the wall, and the faint, almost purple lighting casted long shadows across hardwood floors. It felt like a horrible punch of déjà vu, a gut feeling that he knew this place, but he pushed it aside. 

 

Now was not the time for old memories. 

 

Arthur didn't like being in the open in this place though, not after the paranoid case forty three, where that gut feeling had meant his charge could not only see him, but knew exactly what he was. The bubbled skin of his back attested to that. So he phased himself into one of the walls, and not a moment too soon. 

 

For in entered a hulking figure from the interior of the house, clad in a snazzy black suit, hovering a few inches above the ground, cracked ribs stretched around his torso, eyes purple in their sockets and that stupid hairstyle bobbing obediently on his head.  

 

Lewis. 

 

At first, Arthur was simply confused. Had he been thinking too hard of Lewis and unconsciously taken himself here? It had never happened before. Lewis certainly couldn't be his mission, he was already dead. Though hopefully not long. It wasn't until he saw the figure peeking out behind him that it all clicked into place. 

 

Guilt over a friend's suicide. A dead boyfriend. 

 

His last case was Vivi. 

 

"Come out demon." rang a crackling voice off the halls, an unnatural echo to it but still recognizable. "I know you're here, and it won't take me long to find you." he threatened.

 

Arthur's long stilled heart was racing. What could he do? There was no way he could drive Vivi to suicide, even if he wanted to. Mentally, he cursed Mephistopheles, even if it was his job description. The great trickster. He'd ruined everything, his entire plan was in shatters. To get Lewis his life, he'd have to take away the one thing he cherished the most. 

 

He couldn't. He loved Vivi too, he could never hurt her, not on purpose. It wasn't fair, he wanted to scream, he wanted to die. 

 

But he already had. 

 

So, he wasn't really thinking of the consequences when he phased himself back through the wall, floating in the middle of the hall, staring down at the man he'd killed and the girl he'd been assigned to do the same. 

 

"Hey." he said, waving his left arm, a sheepish sort of smile on his face. 

 

* * *

Vivi felt the rush of adrenaline in her system as she tiptoed after Lewis, that familiar buzz, bittersweet on the roof of her mouth. He didn't go far though, coming to a stop in the front hall, and she tucked herself in the doorway, peeking out at...well nothing, it seemed. 

 

"Come out demon. I know you're here, and it won't take me long to find you." 

 

Vivi's eyes widened. A demon was in here? She wondered what kind. Surely something malicious if Lewis was bothering to threaten it with words, instead of just letting his presence scare them off. Then, she noticed something green slipping out of the wall, a hand, no. A whole arm, a black wristband dangling off the end. Following it came a white shirt, sleeves bunched up, an 80's-esqe puff vest and orange skinny jeans. Vivi didn't have to see the pseudo goatee or sheepish smile to know who it was. 

 

"Arthur." she breathed out, her system overwhelmed with a sick cocktail of emotions. Shock, joy, and a veil of sadness draped over it all. 

 

"Hey." he said, that alto tone seemingly unaffected by his tenure with death. Unconsciously, her feet pulled her forward, plodding past Lewis's line of sight until she was standing in front of him, feeling far too much like she did in that hotel room, looking up. Indeed, now that she was so close, she could see a glowing groove of green around his neck, and her chest felt tight. 

 

"Is it really you?" she asked, her fingers stretching up to press against his chest, but it was still under her fingers, the beat long gone. 

 

But Vivi didn't know what his response would be, because Lewis had grabbed her by the sweater, pulling her back and shielding her with his body. 

 

"No Viv. This isn't our Arthur. It's some cuño wearing his face." he said, anger fueled flames licking his entire body, that raw fury burning deep in his eyes. 

 

"I'm not a cunt." said Arthur, shaking but holding himself as tall as he dared. "And I'm not here to hurt you." 

 

"Liar!" Lewis accused, the flames jumping higher and causing Vivi to scoot back in alarm, nearly falling. "Our Arthur wouldn't be a demon. Our Arthur went to Heaven, and you're the lowest scum of any reality for trying to say otherwise!" 

 

This seemed to strike a nerve with the floating figure, who flickered like an old film, brown eyes shining coal black for a moment before returning. "Our Arthur? You lost the right to call me yours after you tried to murder me!" he said.

 

"You pushed me off a cliff!" he accused, curling his right hand into a fist and a purple ball of fire forming around it. 

 

"I was possessed!" he yelled, another flicker crossing his body, revealing green bat wings and stubby horns, sharp pointed teeth sneering at him. 

 

"You should've been stronger." 

 

This was simply too much for Arthur, who launched himself at Lewis, teeth bared and expression twisted beyond reason, and Vivi could only watch as the people she cared about most attacked each other.

 

Oddly, she found herself thinking about the last time she'd seen Arthur, shoved into a cheap coffin, dressed in that same apparel, save a bow tie tastefully added to hide the truth of it. She'd been the only one to bother coming to the funeral, as Lewis couldn't hold his human form long enough to go with her, and Arthur's parents had cut him off years ago, their only consolation being his burial in the Rogers plot. The grave diggers were young, a few years younger than Vivi herself, passing a cigarette between them as they plowed into the tough Colorado earth. 

 

She hadn't cried. Not because she didn't want to, but it simply felt pointless. So she stood, wearing the nicest dress she owned, and watched as Arthur's remains were covered in dirt. 

 

She'd lost them both once, and the reality of it had left her emotionally shattered, threw her into depression, taken away some of the things she had once considered her very nature. She was sick and tired out it, sick and tired of wedges and guilt, of death-broken promises. 

 

"Enough!" she shouted, grabbing the both of them by their legs and slamming them onto the ground, causing Lewis to clatter unpleasantly and them both to yell "ow!" 

 

"I'm sick of you two fighting! Who cares what happened? You're both dead now, and there's nothing to be done about it. You might as well suck it up and deal with it." she said, and they both guiltily averted their eyes. 

 

"Lewis, you've got to accept the fact that Arthur is neither as singularly good or bad as you'd like to think. Arthur, you still have to forgive yourself for being possessed, but realize that his anger is justified. He is dead because of you, even if it's not really your fault. And you both need to get some better communication skills, for fuck's sake!" 

 

Silence fell for a moment as the two digested Vivi's words, not bothering to pick themselves off the floor. It was Arthur who recovered first, his demon features retracted save the coal black eyes. 

 

"Actually, about that 'nothing to be done' thing...." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you so much for your continued support of this odd little thing. It means the world to me. Just a few things before you go on with your lives.
> 
> 1) The five comment tax is once again renewed. (Although I doubt that'll be much of a challenge, considering the last chapter did so well.)  
> 2) There is probably going to be a much longer wait between this chapter and the next, due to finals, a few fic exchanges, and the fact that Chapter 6 doesn't have a set plot yet.  
> 3) Have a nice day and DFTBA!
> 
> Personal HC: Being a vengeful spirit has many pluses, a dapper suit, control of hellfire, etc, but with the disadvantage of being easily angered, especially when it comes to the person you're seeking vengeance on. Demons can also be pretty touchy, especially regarding their death.


	6. The Haunted Factory and the Kitsune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter of TSTBSAL(D) is dedicated to my lovely beta Becky, (aka Gypsywriter135), without whom this chapter would have been riddled with far more grammar errors than it now contains, and who is a constant inspiration for me as a writer and a person.

Lewis smiled a little as he pulled the covers over Vivi's sleeping form, curled up on the couch with her mouth open, snoring slightly. The expression wasn't as easy to see as it used to be, seeing as he technically didn't have a mouth anymore, but it was there. Until he looked up.

 

Arthur was floating by the fireplace, looking at them with a soft sort of whimsy, but morphed it into something neutral as he looked back towards the crackling purple fire in the fireplace. Lewis still wasn't sure how to feel about Arthur, after everything. After the both of their deaths and everything that came with it. Especially after he admitted why he had come at all. The thought of Arthur, sweet Arthur, who liked pizza with oysters, who swore in other languages when he got annoyed, who could juggle a soccer ball better than most of Lewis's family, being a suicide demon, it didn't line up. But he supposed he'd have to find a way to. 

 

Lewis floated over to where he was and placed a hand on his shoulder, fighting back the initial urge to punch Arthur in the face for mostly illogical reasons. 

 

"There's another couch if you need it." he said, a subtle olive branch put forth hesitantly. 

 

"Thanks, but I don't sleep." Arthur said, not moving his gaze from the fire. 

 

"Can't?" he asked, feeling a sort of sympathy that not even the vengeance could completely erase. Lewis was kind, even to his killer. 

 

"Never tried." 

 

The disparity of those words shocked the vengeful spirit, though maybe they ought not to, after everything he told them. About the deal, and his acceptance, and what he did for it. But the Arthur he knew would sleep for as long as he could. 

 

He wondered, now, how much of that Arthur was left. 

 

He looked down at Arthur, hovering just above the floor, sitting criss cross apple sauce, his face a mask as blank as the expanse of his own. Lewis hated it, hated not knowing what was going on in his head. He used to be able to read Arthur like a book, to know whenever he was sad or angry or tired. Now, he simply looked dead. 

 

"Why did you do it Arthur?" he asked, purposefully vague so he could see what he was thinking about. 

 

"Kill myself?" 

 

He nodded. As good a place to start as any, he supposed. 

 

"I felt guilty. Being alive, when you were dead. Seeing you again, seeing you hate me, I knew I didn't deserve to be alive." he said, eyes not moving but left hand tracing the groove in his neck. "I thought it would make everything square. A life for a life, even if mine wasn't worth as much." he said with a chuckle Lewis had only heard once before; when he'd told him about his parents kicking him out. 

 

"What about Vivi?" he said, sharper than he intended. "Your death....it broke her." 

 

"Don't act like you're not to blame too," Arthur said, not angrily or even accusingly. Just another neutral statement.

 

It gave Lewis pause, hearing that. "I suppose it was a pretty shitty thing to do, dying on her." 

 

"Yea." 

 

A relative silence fell again, Vivi's snores and the crackling of the fire not seeming to fill up the space. 

 

"Were you really willing to kill that many people to bring me back?" Lewis asked, not knowing what he wanted to answer to be. Not knowing which would be most like the Arthur he knew. He was stubborn, Arthur, but he was good too. 

 

"I didn't have to kill anyone. I had to make them kill themselves. Suicide taints your soul, bars you from Heaven." he said, his fingers slipping from his neck. "But yes. I was prepared to do it." 

 

"And now?" Lewis said, looking over at Vivi. The girl who loved blue and food and sought out mystery with a boundless enthusiasm. The balance to Arthur's cowardice and his overconfidence. He loved her so much, and oldest friend or not, he would protect her as long as she needed him to. 

 

"I don't know."

 

* * *

 

After that, Lewis's mistrust of his old friend only grew in intensity. He made sure the demon and Vivi were never alone, got rid of anything that could conceivably be used to kill a person, and kept a few Deadbeat guards on Arthur at all times. If the demon minded the surveillance, he didn't show it, though Vivi didn't give him much chance to. 

 

Arthur's return had bolstered her recovery, igniting her curiosity for the supernatural. She took care of herself more: went outside, ate without prompting, and started asking them all of the questions Lewis suspected she would have earlier-were it not for the circumstances. What Lewis would call himself, how he could do all the things he could do, and if he knew of a beyond, though more of those questions were aimed at Arthur. His answers were always permeated with a slight hesitation and glance downwards, as if the ground would split open and swallow him whole. Vivi scribbled them down in a new journal kept favorably in her purse, and later added them to the files on what used to be Arthur's laptop, (shoved with the rest of his stuff in the back of the van, as his family had no want of it.) 

 

Finally, several weeks after Arthur's return, Vivi declared she had a case for them, placing it down on a suitably Gothic table and grinning wildly. 

 

"I don't know if that's a good idea." said Lewis cautiously, not wanting to seem like the bad guy of the situation, lest Arthur use it against him. 

 

"Come on! It's only a level 3, a minor ghost or demon, probably not even vengeful! Besides, you can't even get possessed anymore!" This was directed at Arthur. "It'll be good for us, you know, team bonding. We may not be like we used to, but we're still the Mystery Skulls!" 

 

Lewis and Arthur shared a significant look. Neither of them had the heart to tell Vivi they weren't sure this could work out. Not with Lewis distrusting Arthur like he did. Nor with Vivi being the last soul on Arthur's checklist. Not to mention the whole possession and killing thing. 

 

Her smile dimmed somewhat at the look. "Please, guys. For me?" 

 

Lewis let out a crackly sigh. There was no way he could say no to her like that. 

 

"Fine. One case. But if _anything_ starts to get dicey, we're getting out of there immediately." 

 

Vivi brightened considerably. "Aw, thanks Lew-Lew!" she said, standing up on her tiptoes and placing a kiss to his cheek. 

 

(But out of the corner of his eye, Lewis saw Arthur's form flicker and the fingers of his left hand curl tightly into his palm.)

 

* * *

 

The ride to the (presumably) haunted abandoned factory was a terse one. Lewis drove and wrapped one arm protectively around Vivi's shoulders while she babbled on about accident victims and demonic organizations in the whaling town of New Bedford, Massachusetts, while Arthur tried his best not to phase through the walls of the van and go flying down the highway. (This was made harder by Lewis's sudden liking of sharp, ninety degree turns.) 

 

They arrived just as the sun began to dip below the horizon, the half-broken machinery casting long, ominous shadows over the similarly ruined old building. 

 

"I don't like this place," said Arthur as he phased out of the back, hovering above some jagged shards of glass, unnecessarily avoiding them. 

 

"Psh! You say that about every place we investigate." 

 

"That's because every place we investigate is haunted, or a coven for vampires, or a crime syndicate." he said as the three made their way into the building, Vivi's flashlight cutting a swath of light in the otherwise menacing darkness. As the sunlight fell away, Lewis's hellfire features became apparent, as well as the glowing groove around Arthur's neck. 

 

"Nuh uh! Remember that one at the museum? That one was completely aboveboard. Immoral, but not technically illegal." Lewis didn't remember that one. It must have been after his death. It hadn't actually been that long, in retrospect, but there was still so much he'd missed. 

 

He didn't want to think of that though, so he turned his attention to their surroundings. It was pretty standard, as far as abandoned factories went; broken down assembly lines, derbies everywhere, odd creaking sounds from all directions. He looked over to warn Vivi to stay close only to find them gone. 

 

Immediately he started to panic. How could he allow his guard to slip like that? Arthur or not, he was a demon, and he would accomplish his goal. Lewis had to stop him. He had to! 

 

" _ **VIVI!**_ " he shouted, crackling voice carrying across the factory, hellfire lapping around his suit once more as he flew around, trying to find them. 

 

It was at that point that he started to hear laughter, unnatural and animalistic, ringing in such a way he couldn't tell where it came from. It was followed by a scream, not one he heard often, but recognizable. 

 

Vivi. 

 

He rushed blindly towards the noise, prepared to do anything to save her, anything at all. So much that he didn't hear the howl that followed and the click of claws on concrete, running away. 

 

"Vivi! Vivi where are you?" he called out, desperate. He didn’t know what he’d do if she died. The mansion was so empty without her, and no heaven would be complete without her in it. He remembered Arthur’s words by the fireplace.

 

_“Suicide taints your soul, bars you from Heaven."_

Vivi acted strong and brave, but seeing what the place had done to Arthur, he doubted she’d even last a day in Hell. She would suffer for all eternity just because some bastard had Arthur wrapped around his finger, and it was all his fault.

 

"H-here Lewis." came a torn voice, and he whipped around to see Vivi, pale, shaking, favoring one leg but alive, and that was what mattered. Without thinking he grabbed her into his arms, his fingers tightly gripping the back of her sweater. 

 

"Oh thank God. Viv, are you alright?" he said, pulling back slightly to inspect her again. 

 

She shakily nodded. "Yes, but Arthur he's...." she trailed off, unable to finish, instead pointing in the direction she'd come from, where two figures now stood, one slumped heavily against the other. The first was tall and thin, with pitch black skin and glowing red eyes, panting heavily out of its muzzle. Wait. Muzzle? 

 

"Mystery?" he asked cautiously. He'd only ever seen the kitsune's (semi) human form a few times, and only for a few seconds. Now he had a full view of the demon fox that spent most of his time as Vivi's lovable dog. 

 

**"Yes, it's me. Now will you help me with him? He's not exactly light."**

Lewis's attention switched to the figure slumped at Mystery's side, and he wasn't able to hold back a gasp. All of Arthur's demon features were showing: horns, wings, sharp teeth and black eyes. But the most alarming thing was the black liquid oozing out of a hole in his chest, claw marks that left his white shirt in tatters. 

 

"Arthur...."

 

"It's ok Lewis. I saved her. She's ok." he said weakly, the forked tongue hanging out of his mouth drawing out the 's' sound. He started coughing halfway through, more of that tar-like liquid dribbling out of his mouth. 

 

Lewis felt a wave of emotions in his mind, guilt and shame and anger, always there, but it was different now. Usually, it burned like a reminder, an eager fuel for his distrust. Now, it felt like betrayal. How could he justify his hatred towards the man who’d sacrificed himself for the person he was charged to kill?

 

"You should be worried about yourself, you idiot." he said as he went to the demon's other side, propping him up. He looked over at Vivi again to make sure she could handle walking back on her own, and she gave a slight nod. 

 

 **"Hurry. We don't have much time."** said Mystery, and the four went as quickly as possible back to the van, lying Arthur down in the back while Vivi crawled into the front seat. 

 

 **"My box. Give it to me."** ordered the kitsune. Mystery's box was a thing full of old relics that not even Vivi knew the entire story behind, but they'd never pushed it. Mystery was, after all, an ancient demonic leader first, and their dog second. Lewis did so and watched as fur-coated fingers grabbed a bottle from the box and poured it without hesitation onto Arthur's chest, causing him to scream like a banshee, body writhing and flickering between forms. 

 

"What are you **doing!?** " he demanded as Mystery started to chant in something that sounded vaguely like Japanese but older, with more power. Instinctively he went to lunge for the demon but Vivi held him back. 

 

"Wait." she demanded, and because it was her, he did. Sure enough, the screaming soon stopped, and Arthur settled down into his normal form, the wound on his chest gone. Mystery had also changed, back in the skin of a semi-normal dog and licking his paws free of the little remaining liquid. 

 

 **"I was saving his life. It's a dream suture. It will keep him alive until we can find a more permanent solution. Now drive to the hospital. I have a feeling that ankle is broken."** Mystery said, before curling into a ball and falling asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few things to tell you guys before you go on with your lives.
> 
> 1) Yes, I am aware kitsune are fox spirits and that traditionally they can not turn themselves into dogs, and that their human forms generally tend to be women. However, given Vivi's canonically Japanese heritage, and Mystery's appearance in the video, I made Mystery a kitsune because I felt it helped the story and fit the canon as closely as possible. I'm sorry if this causes anyone offense.  
> 2) The comment tax has once again been renewed and updated to a quota of six comments, one for each of Mystery's tails. Sorry, but comments are free, and every word increases my motivation to continue so much. Seriously, they're like chocolate for the writer soul.  
> 3) This fic now has a set ending, in three chapters (or so). Yay! However, I am considering doing some spin-off fics which may or may not fit in the canon of this story, but definitely involve demon!Arthur and also maybe Sock and the other Mystery Skulls members. So if you're interested in that, please say so!  
> 4) Have a nice day and DFTBA!


	7. I'm Still Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sudden shift in title style because reasons. (From the He is We song Pour Me Out, if you're wondering.)
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to the help guy at writer.bighugelabs.com, without whom this chapter would been unfortunately deleted from the face of the Earth. Thank you so much! 
> 
> Also a special thanks to thine lovely beta, who took time out of her busy schedule to remind me how to spell words correctly and of proper human physiology. Love you Becky! <3

Lewis shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants as he leaned up against the wall of the alley, feeling exhausted. He'd had to put on his human look long enough to sign Vivi into the hospital, but could hold it no longer, and so he let skin fade and flames dim to their bare minimum. Mystery sat next to him, his paws resting easily across his shins. For a while, Lewis let his mind be blank, focusing on gathering his strength, but the thoughts and worries were quick to return.

"What happened back there?" he asked Mystery, not sure if he'd get any answer. Mystery was well....mysterious, and didn't tend to speak more than he needed to, if at all. He was content most of the time to be a normal dog, if a normal dog with bad taste in glasses.

**"I don't know for certain, but given the evidence, I'd say they were attacked."**

"By what?" Lewis said, recalling those deep claw marks on Arthur's chest, his pained smile as he looked at him, like he'd finally done something right. He shuddered. Was that what he looked like when Vivi found him?

**"Kitsune."**

"Like you?"

**"In a manner of speaking."** he said cooly. **"They're not under my jurisdiction, but they knew well enough to leave when a pack leader told them to."**

"Why would kitsune attack Vivi? I mean, isn't she under your protection?" Lewis knew it was something of that nature, the relationship between Mystery and Vivi, spanning back in her family for generations upon generations.

**"They probably weren't. It's more likely they were attacking Arthur."**

"Why?" he asked, surprised. If anything, he figured kitsune would like Arthur more as a demon. Birds of a feather and all.

**"They thought Arthur was there for his boss."**

"You mean Mephistopheles?" he said, remembering Arthur mentioning his employer when he told them of his gruesome post-mortem occupation.

**"Yes, him."** he said, looking at Lewis as if he were examining the purity of his soul in that one gaze.

**"He's a powerful demon of Germanic origin. For the past few millennia he's stayed mostly in his lane: King of the Crossroads, reaper of Christian souls, that sort of thing."** he said, licking his leg before continuing.

**"But recently he's been expanding. He and his company, Sinnergy, have been privatizing and standardizing demonic activity at an alarming rate. Some of the more traditional demons aren't happy about it."**

It took Lewis a moment to process that information. Arthur had said that Hell was under some major renovation, even if he didn't go into the details of it. However, no matter what the exact circumstances might be, it all led back to the same question.

"What should we do now?"

Mystery was silent.

* * *

Soon after, a nurse came out to tell them that Vivi was ready to see them, (thankfully not getting a good look at Lewis in the dark with his dimmed flames.) He carefully projected his thoughts of looking human as he walked in, Mystery in hands, that general anxiety about hospitals making it hard to focus. Logically, he knew Vivi was fine, but he knew he wouldn't be completely content until the three had made their leave.

Upon seeing her smiling, slightly dopey face, his worry assuaged somewhat. He placed Mystery down by her side and reached out to lace their fingers together, placing a shock of a kiss on her hand.

"Hey boo." she said lightly, a pet name she'd grown all the more fond of after his death.

"Hey." he said, squeezing her hand a little tighter. "How are you feeling?"

"A little loopy." she confessed, looking up at the IV feeding painkillers into her arm and then down at her leg, elevated slightly. "They say it's not that bad though. Pretty standard sprain . Guess you weren't right after all.” she said to Mystery, who didn’t bother dignifying it with a response. “As long as I don't stress it for the next few weeks, I should be fine."

"That's good to hear." he said honestly, though he knew he'd have to be the one to keep her from going stir crazy. It was a nice contrast to before, when he had to gently coerce her to do anything as far as taking care of herself.

"How's Arthur?" she asked, and for a second Lewis's appearance slipped before he put it right.

**"He remains in slumber for the moment."** said Mystery, as he could not.

"I don't even really know what happened back there. One minute we were talking about the Quill case, and then he was dragging me into the factory, telling me to hide. I must've tripped over something, but when I looked up, these huge, black dogs were attacking him!" she said, a sort of morbid fascination in her voice.

**"Nogitsune."** growled Mystery. **"I'd heard rumors there were some in America. Why here, I don't know."**

"It doesn't matter." declared Vivi, curling the fingers of the hand not in Lewis's. "What matters is getting Arthur back." She attempted to sit up, only to wince and bite her lip.

"Oh no you don't." Lewis said, placing a broad palm over her shoulder . "Tonight you rest."

"But Arthur-"

"Will be fine for tonight." he interrupted, his redirected focus once again causing his image to change, not so much a flicker as a shutter flash, gone in a blink. "Right, Mystery?"

The dog nodded .

"Look, I can't stay here. Someone's bound to notice I'm not human at some point. I'll stay in the van with Arthur." said Lewis, moving his hand off the pouting girl's shoulder . "If anything happens, you'll be the first to know, and tomorrow we'll get a plan for bringing him back. I promise."

"Promise on the Bhut Jolokia special?" she said, an old joke from when they first met Vivi, and Lewis knew he'd won.

"Promise." he said, placing a kiss on her brow as he slipped his hand from hers.

* * *

Lewis counted the number of boxes in the back of the van, starting from the ones' marked clothes, to Vivi's pristine comic collection, to Arthur's tools for his arm and to fix up the van. Thirteen boxes yet again. It wasn't much fun, counting, but it was better than the alternative. He looked down at Arthur, hovering horizontally, still smiling that slightly pained smile. The sight of it made the heart floating just above his chest ache.

It was all so confusing, these feelings about Arthur. Was he still his friend? His enemy? Death had remade them, but some things hadn't changed at all. Lewis still loved Vivi, loved her more than was reasonable, or sane. But Arthur was willing to risk everything for them, when the plan failed, when the monsters captured him.

"Figures you'd go and almost die on us again." he muttered aloud, feeling incredibly foolish, but at the same time, a little more at ease. "You love making us worry, no matter what happens." Naturally, Arthur remained silent.

Lewis let out a sigh, a strange feat considering he didn't have lungs, or a diaphragm, but he'd learnt not to question these things. It was too much of a hassle. "What happened to us?" he asked, not knowing if he was asking Arthur or himself or God. Just needing to ask. "You used to be my best friend." Now he didn't know what they were.

"I would've forgiven you, you know? For killing me. Even if it was all you, I would've gotten over it somehow. But then you had to go kill yourself. You asshole. You promised you wouldn't."

Back in college, aside from dragging Lewis through his freshman year, Arthur was terrified of the future. He knew he was smart, something of a prodigy even, but his brain took natural worries and made them mental mountains. On bad days, Arthur liked to go to high places and stand on the edge. He said it made everything a little less awful, leaving his problems like the specks of people on the ground. But the thinking scared Lewis. What if he slipped, or worse? What if, for a moment, he forgot everything he had to live for and leaned forward?

So Lewis started to go with him. He'd sit next to him with his eyes closed and tell him everything he had to look forward to. Not with one repeat. Food to eat, new ideas to make a reality, someone to share a forever with. Occasionally a joke, just to make him laugh. By the time they dropped out with Vivi to become paranormal investigators, Arthur hadn't been up to the roof for six months, Lewis's last reasoning a powerful one.

_'What would we do without you?'_  
  
Now he knew. Those long months with Vivi had certainly been better than his own lonely existence, with nothing but the Dead Beats and his vengeance to keep him going. But it still felt empty. It still felt a little too quiet, without the whirring of machinery as Arthur crafted something new, or the swearing of about three different languages when a video game didn't go his way.

So when a demon phased out of the wall wearing Arthur's face, it felt like a punch to his gut. It felt like a mockery, a trick. But it was reality. A twisted, sick version of it, but theirs. Despite it all, despite the mixed feelings of hatred and distrust, Lewis was glad to have him back.

For the first time in years, the Mystery Skulls were back together.

"I missed you. God knows I hated you too, but I missed you. So don't you dare die on us again. You still need to compile Vivi's files before she starts deleting your math notes to make room. You still have Cali's number in the left pocket of that stupid 80's vest you wear and you might as well call her. You still need to get a hamster like you always wanted to as a kid, and name it something like Guinevere so you and Viv can make King Arthur puns ." he rambled, not noticing the dripping of purple hellfire out of his eyes and onto the floor of the van.

"You need to come back because I'm still waiting to say I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more things before you all go and enjoy your holiday season. 
> 
> 1) Thanks so much to you guys for supporting, kudoing, bookmarking and commenting on this odd idea of mine. Seriously, I don't say this enough, but it means the world to me. A lot of authors write for themselves, and that's great, but I write for you guys, and it's good to know that you like it.  
> 2) In the spirit of Christmas, (or the holiday season in general), the comment tax has been set back to the usual five. However, I should clarify it is not an upper limit, merely a minimum. So should you want to leave more, feel free!  
> 3) I'm still awaiting feedback on that spinoff idea, and have decided if five more people say they're interested, I'll release the first chapter, (though they'd all be independent of each other), shortly after the last chapter of TSTBSAL(D).  
> 4) Have a wonderful day and DFTBA!


	8. One Step Forward, Two Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively known as the Folly of Research.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Steve Jinks of Warehouse 13, without whom this chapter would have come into being far sooner than it did. Curse you, you perfect son of a gun. Curse you.
> 
> As always, all the love to my beta, Becky. I'm sorry I didn't trim down Mystery's explanations, I wanted him to sound like Henry, and so he did. I made sure to fix all the grammar stuff though. Thanks for dealing with my strange author tendencies. Love you. :D

Vivi hated hospitals. She hated everything about them: the too white walls, the squeaky floors, the smell of lemon and antiseptics that permeated them. But there was nothing she hated more than being in them as a patient. Not only was she forced to deal with all of the annoyances a visitor had to, but also overly peppy nurses and blathering, half-blind doctors. She wanted desperately to leave now, but she knew that wasn't an option. Not with a sprain this bad. They wanted to keep her from straining it even further for at least a few days. However, her normal annoyance at being cooped up was kept at bay somewhat by a determination to find Arthur a cure.  
  
As soon as she'd woke up and gotten herself into a coherent state of mind, she began researching. She had Mystery pull books from her private collection, public libraries, any coalition of healing and the supernatural. Numerous cultures, from the crisp cursive of a French parchment to the neat symbols on a Chinese scroll, all fell under her scrutiny[RZ1] . It was made harder somewhat by limited translations into either English or Japanese, her only fluent languages. Arthur had always made it easier, with his encyclopedia of a brain, but now she had to make do with Google translate, and what Mystery could recall from his travels.  
  
In the end, it didn't matter. There seemed to be no (translated) intersection of healing and demons, save healing spirits themselves, and certainly none of Western origins. Vivi scowled as she threw her copy of _Supernatural Creatures of Germany_ onto the floor, finding no satisfaction in the echo it sent around the room.  
  
"Oh Mystery this is a disaster! At this rate, we'll never find a way to cure Arthur!" she said, an uncharacteristic despair in her voice. She never thought this would be _easy_ , but they'd always been able to find a way before. Some little thing would remind her of some obscure fact or ritual, saving them at the last minute. But she knew next to nothing about this type of demon, she'd never even heard of one so specific in her previous research.  
  
Maybe it was part painkiller, part emotional stress, but it was just so tiring. She wanted to give up, but not truly. She wanted nothing more than to keep pushing, keep looking, but God the effort. The feeling wasn't new anymore, after those long months in Lewis's mansion, but she didn't want to fall back into it, not when Arthur needed her most.  
  
Vivi took a deep breath and focused. What she needed was a filter, something to narrow down her search into a smaller pool of possibility. Arthur had always been the one to expand their possibilities, but Lewis kept them on track. Yes, it was helpful to know the backstories of their foes, but their goal was to defeat them. She needed that kind of single minded focus.  
  
"Mystery," she said, looking down at the dog resting at her feet. "Can you go get Lewis? I need another brain on this."  
  
Mystery didn't reply verbally, merely popping out of the room again, and returned with a somewhat shaken looking Lewis at his side.  
  
"I could've just phased through the wall, you know." he grumbled, and Vivi noticed that Lewis seemed....off somehow. Like he wasn't all there.  
  
"How are you feeling, Viv?" he asked, taking a quick look at the door for nurses as he slipped into his alive facade. Even his voice wasn't as upbeat as usual. Lewis had brooded sometimes, back at the mansion, but always when he thought she wasn't looking.  
  
Maybe it was best she not say anything.  
  
"Frustrated mostly." she admitted, letting out a sigh. "I can't seem to find anything to heal Arthur. I mean there's the usual holy stuff, unicorn blood and the like, but all things good and pure are repulsive to demons. Holy water burns them. There's a possibility it's also opposite, but not enough to risk it. Besides, basilisk fangs are expensive."  
  
"Is there a spell or something we can use?" asked Lewis, slipping his hand into hers and squeezing. It helped a little.  
  
"Not that I've been able to find. Generally you're trying to kill demons, not help them. Even so, it takes a lot to do. The only surefire way with Western ones is to burn the bones, but it's likely that demons can be fatal to each other, like ghosts can."  
  
"What about between entities? Could Arthur and I have hurt each other?"  
  
Vivi wondered where this question had come from, but this was Lewis, so there had to be a good reason. "Hurt? Probably. You've got enough power behind the both of you to cause some major things to happen, and we know you can interact. But permanently damage? Unlikely. He's a demon, you're a vengeful spirit. Two different categories."  
  
"So why could the kitsune hurt Arthur, if they're in two different categories?"  
  
"Because they're all still demons." she said, trying to find the best way to explain it. "If I stabbed a human, regardless of whether they were American or Samoan, they'd die. But if I stabbed you, it wouldn't do anything. It's the same, in theory."  
  
"So, we couldn't just get a healing spirit and have them fix Arthur."  
  
Vivi shook her head. "Not unless there's one that's the same type as Arthur. But I haven't been able to find suicide demons exactly like him anywhere! Similar ones at times, but never exact." she said, clearly frustrated.  
  
 **"That's because they're new."** said Mystery, in a deep voice in their minds, shocking them momentarily.  
  
"What do you mean, new?" asked Vivi, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. At last, maybe they had something to work with!  
  
As if sensing exactly the most problematic moment to enter, a nurse came along. She was young, blonde, and pretty. A stereotype in black flats. Vivi disliked her instantly. Her cookie cutter smile wavered slightly at the sight of Lewis, but she was quick to set it right.  
  
“Time for your pain meds sweetie.” she said, placing a tray with a few yellowish-white pills and a glass of water next to Vivi. She bent down to pick up the hastily discarded book with a polite curiosity.  
  
“Interesting reading material.” she said, the word interesting sounding almost accusing in her falsetto tone. “Did your boyfriend bring it?” she said, indicating Lewis.  
  
The spirit gave a quick nod, not wanting to divert his focus from the arduous task of keeping his appearance human, but Vivi could tell it was still a struggle.  
  
She quickly gulped down the pills and placed the glass down on the tray.  
  
“Thank you. I’m just going to read a bit more before getting some rest. Age old cure and all.” she said, plucking the book from her hands with a sinister sweet smile of her own.  
  
The nurse seemed to understand the unspoken message in those words and scurried out, but not without a good look at Lewis first, an action that left Vivi scowling.  
  
“Explain.” she said, turning her attention back to Mystery.  
  
 **"Arthur's boss, Mephistopheles, has been applying the corporate model to demons. Standardizing, streamlining, turning a profit. Arthur's position is his breadwinner. Capitalizing on the fact that suicide is a sin, he's been assembling a massive labor force to fuel his efforts. The first of Arthur's kind is probably no older than fifty. There's only a handful of them in the world."**  
  
Vivi's hopes deflated like a balloon. With such a tiny amount, there was no way any of them were healers. But at the same time, there was something, some tiny thing her mind had latched onto and refused to let go of.  
  
"You say there aren't that many of these demons." she said slowly, looking down at Mystery with an all too familiar expression; that strange concentration just on the edge of a breakthrough.  
  
 **"No more than a dozen. Why?"**  
  
"Well that's it! Mephistopheles, he can't afford to lose one of these guys, and Arthur; Arthur mentioned his boss likes him, commendable work ethic and all." she said, excitement turning each word into a high caliber bullet as she flipped through the little brown notebook full of her most recent notes, searching for the mention in question. "All we need to do is bring him here, and he'll fix Arthur right up!"  
  
"Vivi, are you nuts?! We can't do that!" said Lewis almost immediately, his features flashing bright white before settling back into the replication of his skin tone.  
  
"Why not?" she asked, looking up at him with an indignant expression. "This is the only thing we've come up with that could actually work."  
  
"Viv, this is the Devil. _The_ Devil. The guy who's trying to make you kill yourself? That one! Even if he does heal Arthur, who knows what else he could do?"  
  
 **"Lewis is right. Though I'd refrain from referring to any supernatural being as _The_. It gives them power."** he said, causing Lewis to look somewhat abashed.  
  
 **"We could not possibly hope to contain such a being for any length of time. Even if we could, we don't have his true name with which to summon him. Mephistopheles is closer than the Devil, or Satan, but not specific enough."**  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Vivi, her curiosity outweighing her initial anger at the two for shooting down her idea.  
  
 **"There are two different classes of demon. Demons like myself are classical demons. They're entrenched, ancient, often powerful and generally not your species' friends. Other demons are muddled, they come from a mix of different cultures and have fused together into a single entity over the years. Like the modern Santa, but with the supernatural. Mephistopheles? German origin, over the centuries Christianized as a form of Satan. But even the basis is an amalgamy, tens if not hundreds of local legends mashed together."**  
  
"Making it pretty much impossible to truly name him." Vivi finished.  
  
 **"Exactly."** the dog continued. The room fell into silence for a moment, before a tentative voice stepped forward.  
  
"Couldn't we just summon another demon like Arthur? Surely they'd know more." said Lewis, and Vivi took a moment to think about it. It wasn't as good as the head honcho himself, but a lesser demon would be easier to trap, and they'd need a lot more information if they wanted to deal with this particular kind of devil.  
  
"That could work Lew!" she said, smiling at him, and a flush came to his cheeks as he looked away.  
  
 **"Even then we'd need a true name."**  
  
Another pause.  
  
"Well, aren't these demons made from suicide victims? Their true name is their name." When met with twin looks of confusion, Vivi attempted to slow down her rapid thought process for them.  
  
"Your name isn't you but you become your name as you go through your life, or afterlife. Adding experiences, forming relationships, all under that label. You are as you are known." she said. Lewis continued to look puzzled, but Mystery seemed to get the jist.  
  
 **"We still do not have a name."** he pointed out.  
  
"Maybe we do." she said, her attention falling back to her book of notes. She'd been able to pry a fair amount out of Arthur during their time reunited, typically general but some personal information as well. Finally she came across the conversation about his work.  
  
"'My coworkers don't like me much. They...uh....think I'm a bit of a snob, or something. Teacher's pet. Except for one, guy who was recruited right before me, still on his first case though, um....Vivi can we talk about something else? I can't do this.'" she quoted, pauses, stuttering and all. A habit born of her time in the Tome Tomb, reading out loud to groups of rapt kids. She felt Lewis's grip tighten in her own before going slack with the words.  
  
"Damn it, another dead end." she grumbled as she closed the book. They were so close too! It was as if fate was teasing them, holding a fruit just out of their reach, like Tantalus.  
  
 **"Not necessarily."** said Mystery, with a tone that held resignation and perhaps a flare of the dramatic.  **"I was holding out on this option in the hope we'd find a safer way, but I fear our hands are tied. The dream suture is only temporary, and we do not have time for more research. Arthur's the only one who knows that name, and we need it."**  
  
"What are we going to do?" asked Lewis. "Surely not wake him up, he'll die!"  
  
 **"No. We're going to find a memory with that coworker in it and get his name."**  
  
Vivi stared at the dog incredulously. "Are you saying the only way to save Arthur is to-"  
  
 **"Go inside his head."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few things before you go about your day.
> 
> 1) Since this is a pretty fillery chapter, I'm only requiring four comments in order to receive Chapter 9.   
> 2) Sadly though, it is going to take a fair amount of time before the next update, as A) school has just restarted and I'm taking three math courses. (I don't know what I was thinking.) B) Chapter 9 is the longest and most complicated thing I have written to date. So yea.  
> 3) Still awaiting feedback on the spinoffs mentioned in Chapter 6! Three more comments and it'll definitely happen! The first chapter's title would be "Live to Die Another Day" (Brownie points to whoever can guess where I got that from. )  
> 4) Have a nice day and DFTBA!


	9. A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively known as Black Booked Ants.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to the entire continent/country of Australia. You guys are hardcore. 
> 
> A shoutout to the bae(ta) Becks to thank her for reminding me that not everyone understands what a Sentinel is, how to format paragraphs, and that writing should be a thing that is actually done. Killjoy. ;)

According to Vivi and Mystery, getting the supplies to go into Arthur's head was the easiest part of the whole endeavor. However, for an 'easy' job, it sure required a lot of legwork from Lewis. First he had to sign Vivi out of the hospital, no small task when you can barely look human for more than ten minutes and dare not speak, especially when you were doing so against medical advice. Then came the nerve wracking experience of navigating the magic market for some Japanese item he couldn't begin to pronounce, (though Vivi was nice enough to write it down for him), all while piercing gazes eyed his half-healed heart as if it were a mountain of gold. However, the thought of Arthur's time slowly slipping away was a powerful motivation.

 

It was strange. Lewis felt like something had changed that night in the van. The anger that naturally pooled deep within him lost his initial target, leaving him with a formidable rage and nowhere to direct it. He tried to simply ignore it, but it flared up in short responses and curled fists. Not even Vivi could sooth it, lost in her preparations. 

 

He was a time bomb, and any spark could light the fuse. 

 

* * *

 

 

Eventually though, all of his efforts came to fruition. They were back at the mansion now, Vivi on crutches that only slightly dampened her speed, carefully drawing an odd elliptical design on the dark hardwood floors. She and Mystery we're discussing the finer points of the spell in magical terms he only vaguely understood. 

 

"It's good that we have you to be his Sentinel, but we have no way of knowing his natural state." said Vivi as she finished drawing the last line of the....whatever it was. He helped her up and led her to sit on a chair, thankfully without any protest from her. He did his best to keep her as still as possible, given the circumstances. 

 

 **"That is why I shall go in first, construct a reality you can comprehend. The dream suture should help keep us from delving into his unconscious, but it won't hold long with all three of us.** " said the demon fox as he placed the item Lewis had retrieved in one of the chalk outlined places, (the others soon to be filled by similar strange objects resting on the floor by his clawed feet.) Mystery was wearing his human-like form at the moment, simply for practicality, but the pitch-black skin and burning red eyes lent a darkness to the whole preceding.

 

Lewis frowned at that. He didn't profess to understand most of what the two were talking about, but he did know one thing.

 

"Isn't that suture keeping Arthur from dying?" 

 

 **"Yes. But it is only a temporary solution. Soon the mental stitches separating Arthur's unconscious and conscious mind will fall of their own accord. This risk is necessary."** he said with an undeniable certainty. 

 

Lewis knew this was not his battle to fight, not when it came to that particular. 

 

"Perhaps I should stay behind then. You'll have more time with two." 

 

 **"No. Your part is crucial, Lewis. No one knows Arthur better than his best friend. I may be the navigator, but you hold the compass.**[RZ1]  **"**

 

It was all so odd, thinking of Arthur as his best friend after everything that had happened. Their respective deaths. Their supernatural goals. Vivi. Yet, it still felt true. 

 

"What about Vivi? I don't know much about this but I know it's dangerous. She's already hurt." 

 

"Hello, right here llama boy!" she said, elbowing him in the side. He winced out of memory of a pain no more. "Mystery's making it possible to do this, and you're going to make it easier, but _I'm_ leader of the Mystery Skulls, and that hasn't changed. Or have you forgotten all the times I've saved your nice ass?" she said, naturally causing a purple flush to rise to stark white cheeks. 

 

Vivi was many things, but subtle was not among them. 

 

Mystery coughed in a way that seemed vaguely disapproving. **"In any case, it is not our physical forms that will travel with Arthur, but our spirits. Vivi will be perfectly healthy. Though I will be a great deal larger."**

 

"Think Princess Mononokee." Vivi whispered to Lewis, who gave a grateful look in return. Vivi’s way of breaking down the magical equivalent of particle physics into terms he could understand was a certain measure of genius.

 

 **"It is done."** declared Mystery, snapping Lewis out of his sugar sweet Vivi thoughts. With the placement of the last item, the chalk design suddenly glowed a startling white, bright enough for Vivi to shield her eyes from it. 

 

Mystery turned to Lewis, seeming somehow darker in the brightness. **"Lewis, bring Arthur down."** They had relocated him to an empty bedroom on the second floor, both too close and a little too far from their own lodgings. 

 

He nodded solemnly, his mind unable to stop thinking that if things went wrong, they might never again see the light of day. 

 

He was scared. 

 

It was impossible to have steps when one hovered from place to place, and yet each 'stride' seemed to only multiply his dread. Far too soon he arrived at what he now remembered had been Arthur's bedroom, during those weeks of mistrust. Despite that, it didn't looked lived in, holding only a bed, a desk, and a nightstand. Of course, it didn't need to be. Arthur only came here during the nights, when Lewis would protectively wrap his arms around Vivi and glower, should he linger too long. 

 

It felt so childish now. 

 

He carefully opened the door, as if he did so too quickly he would startle him. But that was impossible. Arthur was still asleep, that shiver-inducing peace frozen on his face. Lewis picked him up with the fragile care of handling glass or a precisely built violin. Silly as the thought may be, he worried that if he dropped Arthur he might snap out of his slumber and die, gasping, bleeding out in front of him. 

 

Just as Lewis had done with Vivi. 

 

Lewis wasn't unaware of the way he was holding Arthur, one arm under his bent knees, the other just above the small of his back. Like a husband with a new bride. Arthur might have laughed at that, blushed certainly, called him a sap. Maybe Lewis would’ve attempted a counter, defended his honor as _the_ sap. Maybe he would’ve just laughed, earned an ineffective box over the ears. His hesitations fell away like so much rain onto the pavement. This was Arthur, and they would save him like they always had.

 

Or die trying.

 

With this mindset, it was far easier to return to the parlor, where he looked over at Mystery for instruction. 

 

 **"Place him in the center."** he said, and Lewis did so. But as soon as Arthur's body crossed the line, the white light turned orange and black, like tiger stripes. 

 

Lewis couldn't help but smile a little, Arthur hated tigers, almost as much as Cali had loved them. Perhaps it was no surprise that had ended poorly. How peculiar, to think of her now. 

 

Once Arthur was in place and Lewis outside the circle, Mystery placed a palm over Arthur's heart, adding a streak of red light to the ring. 

 

 **"Be a dear and grab a chair, Lewis. I'd rather not fall once I enter. Take care not to upset the chalk."** he said crisply, eyes closed and concentrating. 

 

Lewis once again followed Mystery's order, placing one of the skull- ordained chairs behind him so he could sit. There, he encountered a flicker of hesitation. 

 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked as Mystery sat, eyes still closed. 

 

 **"Considering we had to modify a Japanese spell for a Western demon who is utterly unprecedented? I'm as sure as I can be."** he said, each word a dagger. Lewis knew better than to say more. 

 

After a moment of quiet, Mystery started to chant, that same ancient language as he had in the back of the van. As soon as he was done, his body slumped back in the chair, his clawed fingers slightly ripping Arthur's shirt more, but holding. 

 

For a moment, all was still and somber. The quiet was a heavy one, the quiet of funerals, of abandoned homes, of battlefields.  

 

Of ghosts and demons. 

 

"How long do we have to wait?" he asked Vivi, anything to break that silence. She merely shrugged. 

 

"Don't know. Could be hours from now or seconds. We'll just have to wait and see." she said, rubbing her glasses on her blue sweater, a habit she'd acquired quite recently.

 

"That's surprisingly patient of you." he said, somewhat teasing. It was well known Vivi wasn't always the epitome of the virtue. 

 

"I know when it counts." she said, unable, it seemed, to joke on the matter. Lewis could understand. 

 

"Do you really think this will work?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He needed to know if she had doubted, if she was scared. 

 

The last time she had been, he died. 

 

"It has to." she said simply, offering no leaning one way or the other. 

 

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she slumped back in the chair, her glasses falling and cracking on the floor. 

 

"Vivi!" Lewis cried, but he had not even a second before he was being pulled, away from Vivi and towards the circle, where a blue streak had joined the other colors. 

 

His panicked mind did not recognize it though, did not acknowledge the force pulling him felt an awful lot like a hand with sharp nails. Or claws. 

 

Lewis struggled against it, uselessly, his hand reaching out for the girl beyond his reach, and as soon as he crossed the threshold of the spell, he vanished. 

 

Leaving only a streak of purple in the light.   

* * *

 

 

Lewis had not slept for a great deal of time, one of the nasty perks of being a ghost, but his memories of the action had not yet faded into complete obscurity. Thus his 'waking up' after being dragged into Arthur's consciousness was as it had always been in life, immediate and alert. 

 

Vivi's name flew easily off his tongue as he stood up, the picture of someone awoken from a nightmare, flaming eyes racing in his eye sockets to paint his surroundings. 

 

It appeared to be a library, in the most clinical manner. Hard plastic shelves stretched down a forced hallway to infinity, lined with a predictable diaspora of books, thick and thin, young and old, ragged and sleekly new. Vivi was standing next to him, looking totally normal, if glowing a slight blue, and holding out a hand, which he gladly took. 

 

"Good to see you, you old worrywart." Vivi said, smiling one of those impish smiles that made him dare to fall a little more in love with her. 

 

"You too, boo." he said, feeling for a moment in time, utterly content, free from the knowledge that each second spent was a dangerous one, for all their sakes. 

 

"Where's Mystery?" the ghost saw fit to ask, as he wasn't within his narrow sightline. 

 

 "Up there." directed the girl in blue, pointing to the massive blur of fur hovering above their heads. "Poor guy can't fit in this narrow aisle." 

 

 **"Most inconvenient, I find."** huffed the demon, sounding vaguely British in his displeasure. **But hopefully worth it. In this manner, every memory of Arthur's is packed and sorted. All 20 million volumes worth of information, give or take."** he said proudly. 

 

Lewis found it hard to fathom so much information could be inside anyone's head, but the shelves did seem to go on forever and ever, and there were so many books on them. Up close it was easy to see the variety in full detail, some books shining with a plastic sheen, others crumbling around the edges, or with crackled spines from too many reads. Although….

 

"Uh, none of these have titles?" he said obviously, much to Mystery’s chagrin.

 

**"They don't need them. I've color coded everything to save time. Orange books are names. We'll simply search until we reach one of our liking."**

 

"What are the other colors?" asked Vivi as she pulled a black book from the shelf, old but in good shape, and in her infinite curiosity, saw fit to take a peek before Mystery could warn her of the dangers. 

 

As soon as she did so, the book fell like a heavy weight to the floor, and from the shimmering pages crawled out a gigantic red ant, as tall as Lewis was himself. If he had a blood tinted face, it would assuredly have paled at the sight of this monstrosity, but he did not. In any case, death did not prevent him from screaming like a little girl, which he preceded to do. 

 

"Kill it! Kill it with fire!" he cried, sweeping Vivi up into his arms and floating to the top of the shelf, far away from the fearsome pincers.

 

Mystery managed to squeeze down into the space and close the black book with a massive paw, the ant disappearing with it. 

 

 **"Black is nightmares.** " he noted, technically neutral but with a subtle accusing air. **"You can come down now, Lewis** **."**

 

Lewis, feeling awfully embarrassed, did return down to between the shelves, placing Vivi down first before his own feet touched the floor, an irregularity he had not initially noticed. Here in this realm of giant ants and incomprehensible volumes of information, he was as normal as anyone else. At least in terms of corporeality. It was a little refreshing, though he still did not find it truly countered the gut unease. 

 

"Guess we better get searching, huh lover boy?" said Vivi, placing the ant book tentatively back on the shelf before plucking one of that fluorescent orange Arthur loved so much. 

 

However, after what happened last time she opened one of these things, Lewis wasn't keen on the idea of her opening another. 

 

"Let me." he said, and for once she didn't protest, sliding the thin tome into Lewis's outstretched hands. 

 

He cautiously flipped to some random page, only to be immediately yanked down to the ground by invisible force, his head clacking terribly with a suddenly peppled ground, childish laughter ringing in his ears as a name popped into his head. 

 

"Anna Bering. Schoolyard bully. Used to pull Arthur down from the monkey bars by his ankles. Not our man." he provided, thumping the book closed and standing shakily to his feet. 

 

It only took a few more books of droning aunts, vague acquaintances, and an alarming amounts of bullies for Lewis to tire of this particular method of name searching.   

 

"Look Mystery, I think we're going to need to revise this plan. I don't want to relive Arthur's experiences with everyone he's ever met." he said firmly to the underbelly above them. "Especially in college. Those guys were pendejos." he added, for extra effect. 

 

 **"Very well."** conceded the demon. **"I’d preferred this method because of stability, but our time is short. Greater risks must be taken."** the kitsune said resolutely. 

 

 **"I'll have to change this reality into something more visual. However, I can't send you back while I do so. If I do, Arthur's mind could collapse around me, killing us both."** he said, in that same matter-of-fact way he always did with such things. 

 

"So what do we do?" Vivi asked.

 

Mystery once again squeezed himself into the small space, now only an inch or so above Lewis's head, causing him to instinctively burrow his head in his collar. (Vivi had named the action "turtling.")

 

**"Hold on to me, and for God's sake, don't touch anything."**

 

Lewis and Vivi quickly latched onto Mystery, fingers buried in coarse fur as reality seemed to literally explode around them, the shelves replaced with a mirage of bright colors and thoughts echoing in Arthur's alto. 

 

_"I hope Mom doesn't mind."_

_"Slightly to the left, up but not too much, follow the ball."_

_“I one, I one, the middle's negative."_

_"Stupid Keith Menninger. At least there's only 645 days left till graduation."_

_"Pages 766-779 in one night! This guy's a tyrant!"_

(Lewis was pretty sure he remembered that teacher. Professor Wilson, Calculus II. Arthur had a picture of him on their living room wall with which to throw darts at.)

_"Oh God, it's all my fault."_

_"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."_

 

This thought started off quiet, but continued echoing around until nothing else remained but a torn apology.

 

It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was apologizing for.

 

Slowly it too started to fade into silence, but not before one last thought cut through the mire. 

 

 _"Hanging isn't actually so bad."_           

 

* * *

 

 

Lewis’s second “awakening” was a little better than his first in that he wasn’t terrified for Vivi’s safety. However, the reality he woke to wasn’t much of an improvement. They were surrounded on all sides by glass walls in an octagonal pattern, blurry memories whizzing behind them like cars on a highway. It reminded him of both an aquarium and a reptile exhibit, merged into one.

 

Luckily the space was wider, giving enough room for Mystery in all his glory, red and black streaks combing through his white fur, teeth barred and radiating an aura of power. It was easy to forget how scary and grand Mystery could be, between his mild dog persona and slightly irritable personality.

 

“What is this place?” asked Vivi finally, though she really already knew the answer. Some things bear repeating.

 

“ **This is another way of showing Arthur’s conscious memories. Experience based so we have less to sift through, but chronological. We have a bit of a trek on our hands.”**

 

Vivi’s fingers reached out to press on one of the panes of glass as Mystery talked, having learnt nothing from her earlier experience, and a memory flashed up to meet them, drawing the group’s attention like moths to a flame.

 

A television screen took up most of the space on the ‘glass’, the movie Mulan playing on it. A fuzzy white rug was on the floor, just barely in the peripheral of their point of view, and some light source, (probably a lamp), cast long shadows across it. Slightly to the left, a mirror hung on the wall, reflecting an image of Arthur, little kid Arthur. His short legs swung back and forth as he watched, chin resting on his hands, stomach pressed to the rug. His hair was short now, or better put: then, and brown, as it naturally was. Muffled sound leaked into their ears, as if it was being heard through water.

 

_“I’m never going to catch my breath! Say goodbye to those who knew me! Boy was I a fool in school for cutting gym!”_

 

Arthur giggled as Ling’s teeth clinked out of his mouth, though it changed into a wince as Shang knocked Ping back into a tree, and then back into a goofy grin as the song continued. He seemed totally unaware of the voices rising in volume behind him.

 

 _"Honestly Morgana, I don't know what's wrong with that boy."_ rang a deep voice from behind Arthur, his bulky shadow covering Arthur's frame, only his face lit up from the light of the TV.

 

 _"Tristan!"_ hissed a shrill voice in response. _"Not so loud, do you want Arthur to hear?"_

 

 _"I'll talk as loud as I damn want."_ he snapped, and Morgana fell silent. _"I tell you, there's something off about him. Barely talks, always got his nose buried in a book, and every day that stupid movie! I'm tempted to 'make a man of him' the old fashioned way."_

 

 _"No.”_ she said, actual conviction in her voice for a moment before backpeddling. 

 

“ _It's just a phase, Tristan. All kids get them. We ought to be grateful it's now and not later."_

 

 _"Hmp.”_ he grunted. _“It better be. You signed him up for a sport, didn't you? That should drill some sense into that empty head of his."_

 

 _"Yes dear."_ said Morgana, obviously relieved. _"Soccer. You know they say it's going to be very popular in the new millennia."_

 

_"Ha! The day that sissy sport takes over the nation is the day I die. Still, it's better than nothing. When's dinner?"_

 

But the gang never heard the response, as the memory faded back into the blur of color it began as.

 

For a moment, they were stunned, still processing what they'd just seen. Vivi’s face in the glass was no longer curious, instead something between sad and bitter, fingers falling ever slowly to her side. Lewis’s expression was hard to determine, but in his mind emotions twirled like a storm, tangling and brewing a dangerous potential for lightening. It was like a bullet, seeing Arthur’s world as he once did, acting like his attention was on the movie, but those toxic words sticking in a young mind and not letting go, even after all of these years.

 

Mystery looked away first.

 

**"Come. We have a long way to go."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few more things before you go on with your lives.
> 
> 1) I am so sorry about the long wait on this chapter! School and some other circumstances made it a real struggle to get through, and I'm afraid the next chapter will probably take just as long to do.  
> 2) I'm also raising the chapter comment fee to seven this time around, because I really need the feedback to motivate me.  
> 3) In good news, the spinoffs will be happening for sure now! Hoorah! The title is not from a James Bond or Diehard series, Hiezen and Beawolf's Pen, but funnily enough, the thing I was referring to might have. (Hint: It's from a song.)  
> 4) Have a nice day and DFTBA!


	10. Get A Better Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title and more lines than I care to admit were inspired by the work of Shane Koyczan, an amazing spoken word poet who you should definitely check out. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to that sudden burst of Inspiration that motivated me to continue this. Thanks for once brain. :)
> 
> As always I give thanks to my lovely beta Becky for making me chop down some of the more run-on sentences, pointing out the obvious confusion, and taking time out of her busy life for my nonsense. Thank you so much, my friend.

Lewis had learnt to miss a lot of things about living after his death. Eating, sleeping, not having his every surrounding be some shade of purple, but after trekking through Arthur's mindspace, he found walking was not one of them. His limbs ached at a strain that logically shouldn't exist, since he had no muscles, but persisted anyway.

The physical pain was minuscule however, compared to the weight on his chest that memory brought. It simmered and broiled like a pool of magma; a mix of anger, pain and sadness he wanted to dismiss but couldn't. As a spirit, emotion literally fueled his flames, which grew in volume the more he dared to think of those sour words.

Wrong. Off. Empty headed. Could those words really have been said by his father? Of course, Lewis knew there had to be something bad about the Rogers, if they threw Arthur out, but maybe he hadn't wanted to believe it. In his mind, he'd always thought it was some sort of misunderstanding. An argument. Nothing like this.

It was Mystery's voice that once again pulled him back into 'reality.'

**"This should be at least a few years from our last experience. Lewis, find a memory. That way I can better estimate our placement in Arthur's timeline."**

Lewis, though still a bit caught in his thoughts, at least got the order part of that statement completely. He glanced around at the wisps of color until he saw a green one at their feet. He pressed his fingers to the clear surface and a memory came up to meet them, nibbling at his consciousness like a fish on its food.

* * *

 

The first thing Lewis noticed was the cold; a chilling bite in the form of wind blowing long strings of brown hair in front of his eyes, or rather the eyes he was looking through.

Fingers brushed the obstruction from his face, eyes darting to a glob of boys around eight or nine fighting for possession of a soccer ball. Arthur shifted slightly back and forth with its movements, dew-heavy grass squeaking against the plastic of his cleats. A bit of it permeated the soft top and sent wet-cold from the tips of his toes up his spine, but his attention remained firmly on the gaggle.

Eventually, his patience was rewarded. An odd jab towards the ball by the other forward sent it careening across the field, straight towards Arthur. He dashed to meet it, shocking the half asleep midfielder that was supposed to be backing him up.

The opposing team's midfield was after it too, but he had a head start. Arthur nicked the ball and headed straight for the outside edge, dangerously skirting the line. It worked wonders. The other team figured he'd end up kicking it out with a misplaced dribble, merely backtracking in case he attempted to center it to no one.

Arthur didn't kick it out. He held onto it, narrowing the distance between him and the goal. Just before he reached No Man's Corner, the defense caught on that he might actually have a shot at this and went on the attack, elbows out and faces curled into sneers.

By then it was too late. Arthur's heart was pounding, chest heaving, and his foot dug under the ball just like the pros did. The shot arched perfectly in the air, a beautiful parabola with its endpoint in the far right corner of the goal.

The feeling of success was already flooding Arthur's brain. The ball had to go in, it had to! His eyes flicked over to his father, actually paying attention now, not slumped in his chair with a bored expression or dozing off like some of the other parents.

But nature saw fit to ruin Arthur's moment of success, another gust of wind sending that perfect shot just a little too far. The clang of the ball on the goalpost echoed like a death toll in his ears, harsh, loud, and foreboding.

The window of the memory blurred at that point, grey sky and green grass twisted into each other like ice cream swirls. It seemed to be fading, falling away like the first memory had, only to snap back into clarity with the unpleasant image of Arthur's father, looking out the window of a yellow sports car at the trembling youth.

"Start walking, kid. I don't give rides to losers." he said, malice soaked words half overpowered by the whine of the car engine starting up.

Arthur held up arm to protect his mouth and eyes from the smog, eyes screwed shut for a moment of black. When it he blinked them open again the car was long gone, a soccer ball smushed flat in the crossfire.

He sighed with a telltale exasperation that this wasn't the first time he'd been left alone far from home.

Arthur's gaze remained fixed on the ground as he walked the dirt path on the edge of the road, the roar of cars not quite strong enough to hide the sniffles emerging from his shaking chest. 1 part cold, 99 parts cruelty.

Eventually the dirt turned to concrete and the noise was reduced to a hum, background noise. Upward glances confirmed a memorized mental map that didn't stop him from hesitating outside the library.

'Maybe I could stay here tonight. Hide in the non-fiction until Daddy calms down.' rang the high pitched voice of Arthur's thoughts, sounding so fragild it might have been made of paper mâché.

The cleats clacked loudly on the wood floors as he entered, two proud lion statues guarding the doorway, glinting gold in the fading sunlight.

Inside parcels of people scurried to and fro, muttering book titles under their breath or carrying gargantuan piles of study materials. Bookshelves towered like skyscrapers of information in the background, and for a moment everything seemed alright with the world, like he was safe.

Then a droning voice, impeccably slow, echoed around the library.

"The library closes in five minutes. Please check out your items and leave the premises. Repeat: the library closes in five minutes."

Arthur's eyes widened and he made a mad dash to the right, weaving his way through the aisles of biographies and dodging students, heart pounding in his ears.

'I have to hurry! Otherwise...'

"Arthur!"

A new voice cut through the boy's thoughts, and a cheerful young man, probably around sixteen, approached him. He was wearing a Metallica t-shirt and grubby jeans, his hair tied back in a ponytail.

"Where are you rushing off to faster than light?" he asked, voice mirthful.

"Nothing's faster than light, Mick." he replied automatically

"Smartass. You still haven't answered my question."

"I-I'm looking for a book." he said, the panic obvious in his voice. Mick's eyes narrowed for a moment, as if gauging his sincerity, but soon melted back in complacent kindness.

"What's it called then? I'll help you look. I'm sure the librarians wouldn't mind waiting a bit longer for you; you're here so often!" he teased.

"Uh..." Arthur's eyes dashed across the book titles behind Mick.

'Something far away from here....'

"A Complete History of Soccer Plays: Volume I. Or something like that." he blurted out, though still within acceptable volume levels for a library.

"Hmm. Bit dry for you." he commented, turning around to check their place in Dewey's system. "That's on the other side of nonfiction, isn't it?"

Arthur shrugged.

"Oh, _I_ know something the great King Arthur doesn't?! Could the end already be here?" he asked melodramatically, clutching his chest. Arthur kicked him in the shin.

"Meanie."

"Ow, alright! Touchy." the teen grumbled, rubbing his sore shin before straightening again. His expression shifted to something slightly concerned as he looked at Arthur. "Is something up with you? You seem a bit off."

"No." he lied, fixing a toothless smile on his face. "Nothing unusual."

The teen paused, letting the answer sink into his brain, waiting for its answer: "If you say so." he said with a shrug, holding out a hand for Arthur to take. "Come on, let's find this book of yours."

The last thing Lewis saw before the memory faded completely was Arthur's scuffed up cleats on the library floor, and the aftertaste of dejection in his mind.

* * *

 

Lewis straightened from his crouched position slowly, his eyes trained on the pacing path of the green light, unable to look away. The malice he had towards Arthur fell away like cheap wallpaper, and all he had left was uncertainty and guilt. How little did he know about the man he called his best friend? How much had he suffered silently, never apparent to them?

Lewis realized they didn't even talk about Arthur in the past tense until he was dead. To them, he was a staple of the present, there was no need for a backstory. They - well him at least, never regarded it as a big deal. But it was. Of course it was.

He felt a hand press softly against his back, looked over to see Vivi smiling weakly, indicating the vast forever they had left to go. Lewis nodded. Words did not seem appropriate at such a time.

With every step the group made, Lewis tried to remember what Arthur had told him about himself, memories, but he found only superficial statements.

'I played soccer for ten years.'

'I've always been good at math.'

'Don't worry, I've dealt with bullies before.'

Never stories. But with stories like that, how could he blame him? Arthur was dedicated to never being a bother, he apologized for things that did not require it, he curled into himself when he slept like if he tried hard enough he could just disappear.

Eventually, they halted again. Lewis didn't need to hear what Mystery had to say to know what they were supposed to do. Find another memory. Suffer through another experience they were better off not knowing. Carry the weight of Arthur's past until they stumbled, somehow, onto something useful.

**"Lewis? Are you listening? You need to be careful! If you drift off in here you might not come back."** The kitsune warned, voice a rosebush stabbing thorns past his thoughts.

"I can't do this." he breathed out, shoulders slumped heavily. "I can't keep seeing him like this." His voice was crackly, torn like bad radio reception. Liquid fire dripped in sizzling streams down his cheekbones, plopped to the glass floor and dissipated like blood in water.

The silence teetered on the other's expressions, a note of surprise on Mystery's sharp features, a foreign yet recognizable anger on Vivi's. Her fingers curled into wrecking balls, her mouth stretched open and let out a squall.

"You think this is easy for any of us? You think we enjoy living his pain with him? I love Arthur too! And just because you've known each other longer doesn't mean this doesn't break my heart a thousand times over!" she screeched, tears of her own staining her face with every broken note. Lewis imagined this was what Helen of Troy must have looked like when she gazed down on her self-caused war, anguish burnt into her beautiful features. "But the fact of the matter is, we have to do this. If we don't, Arthur's going to die, and we won't even be able to know if we'll see him again. I know this fucking sucks, but if we can't get past this land mine of a past, Arthur's not going to have a future. And God knows he deserves that much."

The words were passionate and yet still put together carefully, not one word of the maelstrom out of place. Vivi was always like that, paradoxically ordered in her chaotic nature, like the curling script of graffiti under concrete bridges. He was forced to succumb to the truth of it.

"You're right Viv. I'm sorry." he said, letting his fists fall away and wiping the last of the dribbling fiery tears from his pure white face.

Her anger had evaporated like smoke off a firecracker, her hands coming to gently cup his face, standing on her tiptoes to press their foreheads together.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone off on you like that. It's just hard, processing all this. I'd never....I never even _thought_ about it before." she said, letting out a deep sigh, the hurt behind the anger infused into it.

Lewis understood. He could see what the words did not say. All the meaning slipped between syllables.

"I know, cariña. I know." The affectionate term was not one that cropped off often, a serious sort of word. A promise. It eased some of sorrow from her face.

He looked into her eyes, the unlocked window into her soul. His own reflected slightly in them, adding a purple-rimmed border, an edge to the otherwise infinite lake of blue.

Blue and purple. Too close sometimes, too alike to work together. They need a foil, something lighter, more cautious. Arthur. How much of their common sense had they left to his responsibility? How much of the real world? Intentional or not, they'd put a burden on him, more worries on his already heavy shoulders. Now it was their turn, and they could not avoid it any longer.

He gently pried away her fingers from his face, pressed a lipless kiss to the tips. (What had she called that? Oh yes, a spark.) She was so creative, so much an idealist, and he wasn't much better. Reality wasn't going to be an easy pill to swallow, but at least they didn't have to go at it alone. Certainly Mystery would keep them on their toes. But there was also that understanding, that knowing to link them together, like the fingers they'd unconsciously laced into one. Lewis' right in Vivi's left. And when - if - Arthur returned to them, Lewis would not hesitate to bring him in. Not anymore.

The couple turned back to the racing memory before them, exchanging one last solidifying glance.

"Ready, player one?" asked Vivi, squeezing slightly.

"Ready." he said.

In unison, they reached out with their free hand, touching the glass and letting the world go white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few additional notes.
> 
> 1) Yea I'm not even going to make excuses about the long wait, only a tentative promise that I have not abandoned TSTBSAL(D), and if all goes well, the next chapter should be out fairly soon.   
> 2) Despite my abysmal conduct, I am going to be bold and ask that you leave comments. There isn't any requirement for the next chapter's release, but it easier to write when I know people are actually reading.   
> 3) The spinoffs are also still on-track, if delayed somewhat. The title of the first chapter is from the Owl City song Bombshell Blonde, and the contents of that chapter are likely to induce tears. Can't wait to show it to you guys! :D  
> 4) Have a nice day and DFTBA!


	11. Bleached Blonde Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Semi-graphic depictions of violence and homophobic slurs in this chapter. Also this is unbetaed so please do forgive any grammatical errors. Still I hope you enjoy this installment of TSTBSAL(D)!

This time, the memory started with sight. Most of the space was filled with the looming expanse of a speckled school desk, complete with graphite doodles, scattered pencils, and a page of hastily copied notes in Arthur's half-illegible cursive. His right hand, adorned with a wide variety of bracelets, tapped habitually on the desk. He sighed, freeing a strand of bleached-blonde hair to droop limply in front of his eyes, eyes that now hazarded a glance at the clock. No luck. The second hand still clicked by with unbearable slowness. Indistinct murmurs of conversation floated by, background noise from fuzzily shaped classmates, gray ghosts in neat rows of desks. Obviously they weren't important enough for Arthur to have remembered with any detail. 

 

Just as Lewis noted the fact, the bell rang, low-pitched and long. After an initial start, Arthur reached for the backpack under his desk, more a rucksack than anything, stuffing the notes and pencils into it carelessly. 

 

His stumbling strides on newly lengthed limbs almost got him to the door without incident. Almost. But a gruffly, serious voice stopped the threshold teen dead in his tracks. 

 

"Rogers. Come here a moment."

 

With the foreboding slowness of an old west outlaw, Arthur turned towards the front of the classroom. Standing in front of an assignment-laden white board was a man of about forty-five or fifty. He was short, stocky, with salt and pepper hair and a scruffy beard to match. His face held no emotion whatever, but his arms were crossed over his chest, the left a prosthetic of a skin tone that did not match his own. His eyebrows moved a fraction of a centimeter up before he spoke again. 

 

"Well." It was not a question. 

 

Arthur bustled over, his eyes not moving from the figure, though they desperately wanted to. Even though he was a good three inches taller than the man, he felt small in his presence. Once arrived, he tentatively spoke. 

 

"Yes, Mr. Weinbrenner sir?" The sir was obviously necessary. 

 

The man moved stolidly over to his standard issue desk and pulled out a paper from a drawer. 

 

"It's about your last test, Rogers." 

 

Arthur resisted the urge to gulp just barely. He'd hoped somehow that the teacher wouldn't notice what he had done. Teachers did, sometimes. But not this kind, of that he was perfectly aware. 

 

"Your answers are all quite correct," The teacher continued neutrally, "But the method is most peculiar." he said, and the lack of any emotion in it was scarier somehow than the alternative. 

 

"I'm sorry sir. I'll do it correctly next time." he said hastily, stuffing his shaking hands in his pockets. 

 

Another of those minuscule facial movements. "Now _why_ would I want that? This is mathematics, Arthur, not literature. There is not always one right answer. No, I want you to show me! How did you think of this?" he gestured meaningfully towards the whiteboard. 

 

Arthur was shocked. He'd never been treated like this when his curious way of thinking had been discovered. Admonished, berated, told always that he was wrong, what he ought to do. It was foreign, but not unwelcome. 

 

With that same stumbling manner as his footsteps, Arthur plunged into explanation, drawing squares and variables and all sorts of gooblygok that was far beyond Lewis' framework of understanding. His words were faltering but excited, laced with that passion that Lewis was familiar with. 

 

It was the same determination for truth he'd seen all through college when the math major was stuck on a particularly vexing problem, or between him and Vivi when reviewing some curious aspect of a case. 

 

During these thoughts, the memory started to fade out, first sound, then sight, leaving only the aftertaste of a smile in the observers’ minds. 

 

* * *

 

 

Lewis was also smiling as they returned to the general mindspace, and though it could not be seen on his skeleton features, it could most certainly be felt. His hair had gone back to its usual bouncing pompadour rather than the licking tower of flame it had been since the first memory, and the rage and pain in his aura settled down significantly. 

 

All of the company were in better spirits now; Mystery's tight features relaxed somewhat, the fierceness of him diminished. Vivi's eyes were bright and happy, and she was wearing a grin of satisfaction at finally finding something consistent with what might be known as 'their' Arthur. Brilliant and kind and with a certain streak of cowardice that was neither good nor bad, but his completely. 

 

Lewis remembered her choice words to him when Arthur had first returned, about how he was neither as singularly as good nor bad as he would like to think. He'd always had a black and white morality about things, no room for circumstance. Now he knew better. Life wasn't like that. People weren't like that. They were all like those grey ghosts, walking through the world, doing the best they could. 

 

"So that's where it all began." Vivi said lightly, chuckling a little. "Our little mathlete." She said the word 'our' with a fondness that made him feel a tad embarrassed. Almost like Arthur was....well....something more than just their friend. She turned a knowing smile at him, clearly able to tell what he was thinking. He quickly looked towards Mystery.

 

"We better get going. We're only halfway there." 

 

So off they went, reminiscing about the good old days. The crammed study secessions in Paridiso, munching on food and barely able to hear over the din. The quiet mornings in the Tome Tomb, Viv and Arthur reading while Lewis sipped coffee and tried to become functional before first period Biology. The nights they'd sneak Vivi into their dorm, watch comedy movies and fall asleep in a boneless mound, snuggled together happily. Then, after they'd dropped out, the gas station supply runs, Vivi applying lipstick in the side mirror, Arthur playing his air guitar to Fall Out Boy songs and occasionally singing along, quite without success. 

 

Of course, it wasn't perfect. It's not been long enough for the nostalgia to contaminate his memories that thoroughly. There were bad days, when Arthur's mental health took a turn for a worse, when the high of three days without sleep finally fell, when they were just _tired_ of being with the same people all the time, every day. But bad days are just days that are bad, and what they had was good. 

 

Could it ever be that good again? He didn't know. So much had changed. Too much, maybe, to work. 

 

But he wanted to try. 

 

* * *

 

Despite their reminiscing, Lewis hadn't forgotten the task at hand. He could see quite plainly there was no future for any of them if they couldn't get through Arthur's past. But it's easier knowing that misery is not a constant vein, that his life had joy too.  That seasons change, even if people don't. 

 

However it's Vivi who decided the memory they should next pluck free, a crimson stain on one of the slanted edges of the ceiling. It's taller than him, even with outstretched arms, forcing him to accept a nudge up from Mystery. His fingertips barely made contact before he fell, nearly losing his balance completely, if not for the steadying hand from Vivi. But before he could thank her, the crimson mark widened, solidified, fell into place. 

 

The rest of the memory soon followed. 

 

* * *

 

It was a book that held the hue, a World History textbook to be exact. It sat atop a pile of similar textbooks of different subjects at the top of a narrow, greyish-green locker. A locker that was taller than the person looking into it. 

 

"Fucking Morris." Arthur swore, the syllables vibrating oddly against his braced teeth. A small mirror on the locker door showcased the annoyed expression, along with spiked blonde hair, dappled with brighter orange streaks. 

 

Lewis somehow knew that Morris was Miles Morris, a gangly basketball player who shared this locker and liked everything to be in its place. Textbooks were on top, to keep them from possible damage. This worked fine mostly, until he accidentally moved a book that wasn't his. Like Arthur's WHAP book. 

 

Arthur tried in vain to reach the book, pressing his toes into the ground and stretching his arms so far it hurt. No luck. Even then he only reached the Lit textbook. He was about to resign himself to sharing with someone when an arm reached over his shoulder and easily plucked the book in question. 

 

"Here ya go, shortie." 

 

Arthur turned, ready to give an enthusiastic thanks to his savior, but the words died in his mouth when he saw who it was. 

 

Keith Menninger. The star of the football and basketball teams. A hulking mass of a teen with broad shoulders and a V-line waist. Dyed blonde hair that curled in self-consuming waves on his head. 

 

The biggest bully in their high school, and Arthur was his most frequent prey. 

 

"What, don't trust me?" Keith was still holding the textbook in his left hand, the right resting on top of the locker's frame. 

 

Trapping him. 

 

Arthur shook his head slowly in response, more instinct than actual thought. All it earned was a sigh. 

 

"Figures. The one time I do something nice." Keith grumbled, giving an exaggerated eye roll as he inelegantly dropped the book onto the floor, almost hitting Arthur's turned in feet. He shuddered, curling his fingers into the inside edge of the locker to hold him steady. Anticipating the inevitable punch to the gut, or worse, his face. 

 

"Look, Rogers." Keith said, his tone an instant giveaway that what would follow wasn't the usual brutish remark. "I think I misjudged you. You're not so bad, you know?" 

 

"I'm not?" Arthur said, blinking in surprise at this unusual remark.

 

"Nah, you're not. Morris likes ya, and he doesn't like anyone, and a couple of the guys got their eligibility back once you tutored them. Saved our asses in playoffs. So I'm not gonna wail on ya anymore." 

 

"Really?" Arthur said, skeptical but still hopeful. Without Keith bothering him, high school might actually be bearable. 

 

"Yea. In fact, I want to make it up to you. Guys like us...we gotta stick together." Keith said solemnly.

 

Arthur was puzzled by this remark, and it must have showed, because he earned another eye roll from Keith. The football player brushed aside some of the tidal wave of hair by his right ear, revealing a small, round, earring stuck in the lobe. Odd, but a couple football players had piercings, mostly to impress their girlfriends. He studied it. Pink, purple, and blue stripes. He knew what it was, but it didn't really register. It was a flag, he remembered, a pride flag, the - 

 

His eyes darted back to Keith, who winked knowingly. Arthur flushed as crimson as his textbook.

 

"For a smart guy, you're a bit oblivious, aren't ya?" he teased, wearing a sly grin. Arthur shuddered again, and it wasn’t from fear this time. 

 

Suddenly he felt fingers curl into his shirt, yanking him up so he was face to face with the gigantic teen. Keith's features had twisted back into familiar malice, and Arthur's heart rate spiked, thumping in his ears like a drum. What was happening? Was this guy nuts?!

 

Keith leaned in closer, green eyes centimeters away from Arthur's own, the words hissed through clenched teeth. 

 

"You. Me. After school. Behind the practice field bleachers. Be there." 

 

With that, Arthur was shoved unceremoniously into his locker, landing hard on his behind. He looked up, slightly dazed, to see Keith walking over to a cluster of other football players, receiving high fives and slaps on the shoulder. 

 

"And don't you forget it, nerd!" he yelled back, and just for a second, Arthur saw a flicker of affection in the look. The group walked away then, down towards the practice gym and out of sight.

 

It took Arthur a moment to realize what Keith's action had been. A bluff. Quite a clever bluff really. 

 

Maybe, he thought, there was more to Keith Menninger then met the eye. 

 

The memory slowed once Arthur reached down for the textbook, froze on the cover like a snapshot. In a flash, the background of stained carpet ripped apart, replaced by cracked concrete painted with long shadows.  

 

It was an image that only lasted a split second, since it was followed by a large hand cupping Arthur's cheek, tilting his head up. Forest green eyes bore that same fleeting affection, but deeper, unhidden. 

 

"I wasn't sure you'd come." he said, brushing his thumb over his cheek. Arthur blushed, averted his eyes. He hadn't been sure he'd come either. He assuredly had more data on the bad side of Keith, the anger, the cruelty. But curiosity pushed it all aside. He wanted so badly to know, and it wasn't a purely scientific interest.

 

"You're cute when you're all blushy." he said, coupled with a breathy little chuckle. It crinkled the laugh lines around his eyes, he'd never noticed those before. Never had cause to. 

 

Arthur was overwhelmed by it all, the blatant interest painted across Keith's face, the fingers gently splayed on his cheek, the rapid beating of his own heart, like it wanted to burst out of his chest. But it all stopped mattering once Keith kissed him. 

 

He kissed exactly like you'd think he would, urgent and unyielding, without any doubt or uncertainty. Arthur fell into it completely, eyes closed, grasping for purchase in that gorgeous hair. He didn't kiss back, because he didn't know how. He'd never kissed anyone before, and he was terrified of failure, of messing all this up. Keith didn't seem to mind, too busy claiming him, pushing him against one of the concrete supports. Mine, the kiss seemed to say, a mantra repeated until it was all Arthur could think. 

 

Mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine. 

 

"What. The. Fuck." Three shattering words that yanked Keith away from him, emerging from a shocked beanpole of a boy draped in an oversized football jersey. One of the benchwarmers, come back for equipment. A witness to the crime. 

 

"I-It wasn't my fault!" spluttered Keith, panic engulfing him like a flash flood. "This weirdo just fucking kissed me!" he said, pointing accusingly at Arthur.

 

"What?!" Arthur said, not quite able to believe what was happening. He wasn't, he couldn't be pinning this all on him! 

 

"You heard me, you faggot." he said, all affection gone from his gaze. All that was left was fury. 

 

The same hand that had gently cupped his cheek had curled now into a fist, punched him squarely in the face, knocking him to the ground. His eyes crossed, phantom Keiths surrounding the real one, and blood dribbled from his nose. 

 

"Get up." The armada of bullies said, so he did. Again and again he was pummeled, hard fists to his chest, forcing him to the floor. His palms were scraped raw by the concrete, skin torn to shreds. But every time he fell, he got back up, not out of defiance but fear, of what would happen if he didn't. 

 

Eventually, he fell and couldn't get up. Too occupied by the battlefield of bruises across his chest, the aching pain consuming his limbs. His bleary eyes settled on Keith, just one now. 

 

"Don't you dare try something like that again, queer." he growled, punctuating the words with a kick, curling Arthur further into himself. He nodded, somehow, and the football player turned away in disgust. 

 

If there had remorse in those eyes, Arthur hadn't remembered it. 

 

He watched him walk away, stopping only to force a vow of silence from the onlooker. He squeezed his eyes closed and bit his lip to keep the shaking sobs from coming out. 

 

A boy with broken heart and ribs to match. 

 

The last thing they saw were streaks of crimson across ragged fingers, pooling carelessly on the ground. 

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm sorry." Vivi gasped as soon as the air could fill her lungs again. Horror grasped her features like the last words of dying men, and despair hung on her in loose drapes. "I didn't know. I didn't t-t-think....." She petered out. 

 

'Of course she didn't know.' thought Lewis dully through the shock that bound all of them. Every single slice of Arthur's life they'd seen, he was holding something back. Bottling it all up like his pain didn't deserve the space. Like it didn't matter. 

 

He didn't feel pain at what they saw, nor anger. It was beyond that. Just pure emotion, all the good and bad, the love and hate. He'd felt it once before, just for a second, when his heart broke. When hellfire blazed like a storm from his body, Everything there in a flash. And then...nothing. Until Vivi came to the door, he was nothing. All of it was there, he knew of it, but it was gone. It scared him more than any of the monsters they'd ever met. And if it happened again, if he had to live another memory this awful, he wouldn't be able to put himself back together again. 

 

He'd burn out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few additional notes.
> 
> 1) I'm very sorry for the long wait! I actually finished this chapter almost two weeks ago but was hoping to have it betaed before publication. Sadly Becky is busy with grad school, and my temporary beta, WritingDoodle, was also indisposed. Thus you must suffer through my raw writing.  
> 2) The next chapter is probably going to take just as long, if not more time to finish, and is going to be at least partially from Mystery's POV.   
> 3) The comment tax is back to the standard five, though more are most definitely welcome.  
> 4) Have a nice day and DFTBA!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm like a FOB lyric in how my title has nothing to do with the contents of the story.


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